


8 Forthnights of Possibilities

by godrics_quill22



Series: Season's greetings [3]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anger, Angst, Arguments, Blowjobs, Breakup Sex, Camping, Control, Cunnilingus, Derek believes in karma, Desire, Drama, F/F, F/M, Fear, Feuds, Friendship, General, Graduation Fic, Hale family drama, Heartbreak, Hurt/Comfort, Hypnosis, Jealous!Malia, Jealousy, Kira can't take it anymore, Kitchen Sex, Lesbian Sex, Liam is being weird, Lora friendship, Love, Lovers' Spat, M/M, M/M/M, Marrish, Mental Instability, Moving On, Nightmares, Pack, Pack Love, Passion, Peter is worried, Repression, Romance, Scira alert, Scisaac - Freeform, Soft-ish!Cora, Stair Sex, Stisaac friendship, Straight Sex, Stress, Teasing, Threesome, Tourism, Trigger Warnings, Vampires, Walter becomes pack, Walter/Isaac friendship, age gap, awkward moments, background polyamory relationship, comatose!Lydia, everyone is being weird, fears, flirting -of sorts, friends - Freeform, i'll add as i go - Freeform, incest themes, lonely Malia, malira, older/younger relationship, outdoors, pack picnic, parental love and obligation, past experiences, saying goodbye, stiles is fed up, too late, warm and mushy feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-06-08
Packaged: 2018-03-29 21:22:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 49,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3911149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/godrics_quill22/pseuds/godrics_quill22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jordan sped all the way to the hospital, jumping -and literally flying- out of the patrol car and towards the door only to run into Scott and Isaac who were in the same hurry that he was. "Wait, she called you too?" Parrish asked, not pausing even for a moment in his purposefully quick strides. He was afraid. No, he was terrified sick and going out of his mind but Melissa hadn't said much. Only asked him to come over and refused to say much else.</p><p>"Yeah." One of the teens said but he couldn't really differentiate who from who.</p><p>"And she didn't say anything? I'm taking the stairs." Jordan says, not really expecting an answer. He couldn't just take the elevator and stand in calmly for it to get there and he wasn't going to press the button multiple times in hopes of getting the elevators to go faster. Climbing the steps two or three at a time seem to be the most efficient way because barely a minute afterwards, he was running down the corridors towards Lydia's room with Scott and Isaac right on his tail. Derek had probably stayed behind to lock the car after the haphazzard way he had left it because when he got there, everyone with the exception of Derek was there.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bardo?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mulder200](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mulder200/gifts), [GumybearsKim](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GumybearsKim/gifts), [Esther_Ebene](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esther_Ebene/gifts).



Chapter 1 - Bardo? [ 1st - 14th March]

When he agreed to the pack get-together, he had not had this particular outcome in mind. And yes, he had thought of a lot of outcomes which now that he thought again, he realized was really stupid on his part because this is Beacon Hills. A month of peace is evidence of too much divine favor and yes, they have had that and Jordan just kept thinking around in circles, circling around the issue at hand yet never quite touching it. Because that would mean touching Lydia. Lydia who bounced in his arms with every step he took, her limp body obeying his every twist and bump as he cut through the woods. His beloved Lydia.

It took too much effort to keep it in. The urge. The want. The intense desire to scream till his frustrations seep out of him and the crippling emotion to find the son of a bitch who did this to Lydia and rip him apart piece by piece and slowly till he knows what it feels like to have your life and soul seeping right out of you. Because that is how he felt in that instant.

Suffocating.

Choking on breaths.

And Lydia wasn't breathing.

From behind him, he heard Isaac humming -he did that a lot- for Scott because it turns out the alpha secretly finds it very comforting and in that moment, in that moment it worked for him too.

The lights to the lakehouse appeared and they were met immediately at the door by Deaton and Kira. The doctor -vet- had been called instantly by one of the others, he wasn't sure who, and had quite expectantly rushed to the lakehouse. Deaton and Lydia, have over the years developed a relationship akin to a "next of kin" thing. When the emissary was in trouble, Lydia went to the rescue and when Lydia was, he came to the rescue. Did it make him jealous sometimes? Maybe. Was today one of those days? Absolutely not. "Go into my car. I brought A- blood bags in a flask now get them for me instantly, Scott. Isaac, go with him. I'm afraid he's about to faint himself. And take her upstairs to a bed... Or any flat surface that isn't the floor." Deaton says as he turned to the other man, indicating the 'after you' movement of his hand.

Without another word, Parrish obliged and headed up the stairs as quickly yet as gently as he could with Lydia's pale body in his arms. When he finally got to the bedroom they were to sleep in that night, he set her down atop the sheets, fighting to keep his sob in there although his eyes filling up was something he couldn't control. "She's not... She's not..." He tried to state the obvious but for some reason, he couldn't. Deaton, ever so helpful, shoved him aside as gently as he could and sat on the bed beside Lydia, going straight to work. 

"Yes she's not breathing but that's to be expected after her blood has been drained to the red but she still has a pulse. It's salvageable so do excuse me and let me focus on her. Lydia is strong. She can survive this."

"We brought the bags." Isaac says as he entered the room. Without Scott. It seems that incident hit the alpha more than it usually does.

"And I brought the stands even though you forgot to ask." Stiles added, walking in and setting the stands on each side of the bed, rubbing his palms together and bouncing on the balls of his feet in the way he did when he was nervous.

"Come on, I'll get you out so Deaton can work. I'm sure Lydia would recover." Derek muttered his first words since they got to the house, having seethed the whole way back. Malia was grating at his nerves with every ticking moment. 

Jordan moved. He didn't know how he managed it but he did, Derek's hand wrapped firmly on his upper arm steering him towards and out the door. He was still in a daze. He couldn't understand why. Why of all people it had to be Lydia. His beautiful Lydia.

"Stiles lemme-" Peter started to say only for the teen to cut in, not even sparing him a look.

"No. No way in hell i'm leaving this room. Not until i'm certain she's going to be okay. I'm not leaving Lydia." The way he said it, the intensity of his words, the way he never looked anywhere but his eyes remained stuck on the pale banshee on the bed, the emotions seeping across the room to Peter's nostrils and his senses was enough to make him literally take a step back in jealousy.

Isaac's head shot up instantly and sharply from where he had been helping Deaton with the bloodbags while the doctor searched for an extremely elusive vein. The pulse was getting weaker and he was in a panic. Even worse, he could feel Scott's despair from downstairs and longed to just wrap his arms around him. To hold him close but then the exchange happening right in the room was calling his attention. Peter *never* got jealous. Not when the whole pack had marked Stiles, -in fact he had laughed- and then he had not even given a signal of animosity when Isaac had kissed Stiles and kept spooning and cuddling and smooching the boy yet now he was? He cast his gaze to see Stiles, oblivious, frozen in shock except his eyes which seem to get larger every second and the weaker Lydia's pulse got as though he could hear it. He looked to Peter again and shook his head to the man who just smiled ruefully. 

"I found it. I found it." Deaton said when the estranged vein of Lydia Martin was found, Stiles' legs buckling from under him in relief and Isaac got to him just in time to catch his fall but set him slowly on the floor beside the bed. He looked up with a sigh, noticing the former psycho had stepped out of the room and set to helping Deaton adjust and fix the blood bags for the transfusion.

"We should let Melissa check her sometime. I can't give a legal prescription. The oxygen mask is going to need more than what we have so like it or not, between now and tomorrow, if she's not awake, the authorities must be told."

"I'm sure the others would love to hear that. Stiles would watch her." Isaac says with a small smile when Deaton turned around to cast a wary look over his shoulder at Lydia. And Stiles, whose hand held onto Lydia's, his thumb rubbing lazily and absentmindedly on her pale knuckles while his eyes remained fixed on her face. Most especially the mask on her face and the *very* light mist that formed occasionally in it. Lydia was barely breathing.

Scott was standing at the door when they climbed down the stairs, his arms folded over his chest and eyes dowcast and looking at his shoes as though they were the most interesting things ever invented. Isaac moved straight to his boyfriend from across the room and stopped before him, ignoring all the others. "Hey. You okay?"

The alpha looked up at him and shook his head but that was all Isaac needed to pull the other into his arms for a crushing hug. Quite honestly, he needed the hug too. Lydia and Scott were all he had left of Allison and on those rare moments when he just wanted to talk about his first love, the banshee had been the one he turned to. She was always willing. Grateful that he hadn't just discarded Allison's memory so yes, even though their friendship was based on mutual loss, it was also the kind of friendship he had with no one else. He most certainly wasn't up to losing that.

"She's gonna be okay." Scott muttered into Isaac's chest. "We're all gonna be okay." Then he pulled back slowly and Isaac nearly jumped up to scream "AJA!!" when Scott's next words came.

"I'm gonna find that son of a cod if it's the last thing I do!"

Deaton cleared his throat, snapping everyone's attention to him. "For now, she's fine. I gave her antibiotics and a blood transfusion. I can't give her adrenaline because some viruses and bacteria don't agree with adrenaline and it could be fatal instead. Also, her pulse is still weak and there isn't much you can do for her right now although Stiles insists on staying with her. For his own peace of mind, allow him to do it but make sure he eats and doesn't starve himself to death in the process." He looked directly at Scott when he said it and the wolf nodded in confirmation. 

"Don't take it personal, those three have a history together and whenever Stiles hits a low, Scott's the only one who gets through but that doesn't mean I expect the rest of you to idle." Deaton says as he walked across the room and towards the door, Scott and Isaac parting to allow him through as he called over his shoulder. "I was going out of town but I'm staying till she's alright although I need to go to the clinic to search for anything on how to survive being drained by a vampire."

And then he was out. Scott had no time to mope or allow moping. He was the alpha. He needed to take control of his pack or they were all going to lose it and be vulnerable to stress and any attack.

"Alright we did what little we can do for Lydia *medically*. So now let's get to the other side of that fence. Derek, you go with Parrish. And yes, before you ask, it's babysitting duty because the emotions i'm catching off him right now is disturbing so he's probably going to do a lot of stupid stuff. We don't want him dead by the time Lydia wakes. Peter, you go with Malia. And both of you try and put your... issues aside till we find the perpetrator and Cora can go with Kira. Isaac would stay here with Stiles and Lydia."

Everyone frowned. "What about you?" Isaac asked suspiciously.

"I'm going too. I can't just sit back and watch as-"

"Yes you can. And you will." Derek deadpanned, moving from his position where he had been leaning against one of the windows in the room. "And there is no arguing that."

"Wait, you can't keep shielding me from that thing just because I'm an alpha and you don't want an orphan pack!" Scott had not meant to be petulant but he pulled it off too swiftly.

"We're not shielding you from anything."

"Alright then I'll wake Liam and go with-"

"Are you insane?" Peter cut in. "Forget that. Do you think we're insane? You're angry and fuelled by fear. Liam is *naturally* angry. He's like a modern day Hulk and you want to what, take him with you to find someone and keep him alive? Unless you're willing to return with your first blue eyed beta then do feel free." That last bit, that was harsh but it did the trick and Scott's frown may have told a different story but Isaac knew the alpha too well and just reached out to grab his hand, squeezing.

"Look, just think of it as back up and security all wrapped in one. There are humans here. Mason, Stiles and that other hyperactive one Mason brought tonight and you *need* to keep them safe. There's also Lydia who can't defend herself and there's the rest of us, going out. We can't use up all our aces. We need to have you, Isaac and Liam here for when... if we ever need back up." Derek reasoned, choosing a calmer approach from Peter's.

Scott's demeanor changed first, then he squeezed Isaac's hand before nodding slowly and somewhat hesitantly after a while.

"So we call every six hours just to make sure everything is okay." Cora muttered for the first time since the discussion started, already signalling for a pale and trembling Kira to follow her out the door.

Malia watched Kira leave without a word and sighed deeply, turning to her father only to see him in a serious eye lock with his nephew, their gazes soft and tender and as though on cue, they both looked upstairs and shook their heads.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of him" Scott muttered, having witnessed the exchange and Isaac, looking to lighten up the mood a little, added;

"Mhm. Me too. I do have a history of taking care of Stiles. Gladly." Derek growled. As expected, and Peter chuckled just as he had anticipated.

Paired up, Peter and Malia left a few moments later, Derek and Parrish being the last pair to leave close to an hour later because Jordan had gone upstairs to say goodbye to Lydia and had needless to say, spent quite the time, just being with her till his anger had sparked and fuelled him to action.

Much to Derek's relief.

Two weeks. That's how long it had been since that little decision had been made. Two weeks of hunting for a vampire and with all their superpowers at their disposal, they couldn't catch up to the little son of a bitch. The alpha was angry. And so was the pack. Expecially since this was the twelfth day since Lydia was moved into the hospital and declared officially comatose. 

Peter was angry on a whole new level. A part of him felt some sort of comaraderie towards the banshee. Another part of him wanted to wait till Lydia uses her first "You don't know what it's like being in a coma for people like us." and perhaps gloat afterwards but the other more sane part of him was just angry because Stiles was devastated. And hurt, and afraid and all shades of negativity and Peter would do anything to make sure that his mate was fine and sane again.

Derek was witnessing a different set of emotions. Helplessness was at the top of that list because watching Parrish, and being with Parrish for two whole weeks was enough to make the most emotionally constipated person, -namely Derek Hale- have emotions. Of course there was Stiles. And Peter and Scott and basically everyone he knew and cared about except Isaac. The son of a cod was being surprisingly strong in all this. He has even taken up Stiles' place as pack comedian and managed to wring out several emotions out of them so that even for a brief while, they all -Parrish included- forgot their worries and just laughed a minute.

Two weeks was a long time. It definitely felt like an eternity. Oh and Cora knew first hand what eternity feels like. It feels like travelling what feels like *worlds* just to get to a rumor. A rumor that at least one member of your family survived the storm. The storm of fire. And then when you got close enough, having that dream stolen from you and then being forced to not shift in months. Oh she knew what eternity felt like but this was a whole different kind. There were very few people he cared for. Derek was at the top of that list. In spite of their many arguments and differences, Peter was next. Then Stiles, Scott, Isaac, Lydia, Malia... Basically the rest of the pack. But somewhere in there, Lydia Martin lay. And even though she never spoke about how she felt, she actually hated what had happened. Her fear of losing people close to her was very real so she had tried, searched. Teamed up with Kira who was okay although she annoyed her a little, to find that vampire and all to no avail.

Kira handled the whole thing differently. She wasn't like the others. She didn't wear her emotions on her sleeve however, this time, she felt bleak. It was surreal to her and a part of her was still in shock as to what happened. Some time during the past two weeks, she had thought about it. About what she's supposed to feel yet the more she thought about it, the more confused she got. Yes she wanted Lydia alive. Her family even burned insense and candles and prayed for the banshee to be alright yet she wasn't sad. Her mom thought it was normal. Said something about everyone having several ways of dealing with grief.

It was different for Malia, how she dealt with what had happened to Lydia. Mostly, she didn't deal with it at all. She just had a laid back approach to everything. She calmly approached matters while the others run around rampant and frantic in search of a solution as though finding the vampire would suddenly make Lydia wake up from her coma. Right. Her issues did take up more of her time though because paired up with her father meant constant sarcastic comments at the man about his polyamorous relationship with Stiles and Derek and the man seemed to not be bothered by her words. He just went about his days, tracking the escaping little asshole who kept dragging them along as though they were his shadow. A whole pack. With a true alpha, werewolves, wercoyotes,banshees -indisposed but still alive-, kitsunes and humans with a fucking witch and they were being strung along. No, Malia wasn't angry or hurt and emotional. She was homicidal and frustrated. She wanted a pass at that little shit and he... or she, better hope that she wasn't the first person to catch up to him.

Scott was darn near losing his mind with this. He had been forbidden to try anything and in spite of the strong urge and desire he had to just *try*, he also knew the others had been right in what they had said. Two weeks. That's how long it has been. Two weeks of no school and their final exams were happening soon. None of the parents have ventured the 'school is essential' speech. Since Lydia was admitted to the hospital, they had been running shifts at the place. Stiles wanted to be there constantly but after a firm command, the human had agreed to the shift method. He came in early in the mornings to swap Isaac and Scott so they can go and get their rest. 

The wolves came back twelve hours later, one of them drives him home and forces him to eat then leaves to join the other in the hospital. His boyfriends came over but there was hardly any talking and mostly they just spooned till morning. He was pretty certain by now that his father was aware of his double dating Derek and Peter but at the moment, he couldn't bring himself to feel anything beyond fear. Fear for Lydia's life.

Liam only knew one thing and it went beyond fear for Lydia's life. It was fear for the entire pack. No one really spoke about Allison but he figured; where would they begin? He knew of her though. Knew the amount of guilt Stiles felt the moment the name came up and knew how Scott, Lydia and Isaac's emotions just go on a spaz when Allison was mentioned and he didn't... couldn't imagine what losing Lydia would do to the rest of the team. And that, above all else, terrified him.

Helplessness goes around. And well, just because he was human didn't mean he couldn't feel that way. He and Liam were expected to go to school and they do. Their routine has been from School to the hospital to home because there was nothing to do. Except Pray. Lydia Martin had turned Mason into a religious person.

Someday soon he would have to find a way to let out all his anger and frustration at what was happening but not now. Right then, everyone needed him to be strong. Someone has to be strong for the rest of them and Isaac took that role without fuss. 

It was the longest two weeks of his life and yes, that included all the time spent in the heart of the war in Afghanistan. He didn't go into her room. Couldn't bring himself to. He was devastated, in shock. He fed off on news reports Isaac took upon himself to give him every six hours. He felt dead inside and guilty. Croppling guilt because he knew he could have paid more attention. They had been in the same room that night for gods sakes! He could have been back up. He should have been and he was never forgiving himself if something happened to the woman he loved above all else, just because he was neglectful. No, never. He wouldn't be able to live with himself.

For Lydia, bardo held a different appeal. She heard the others talk. About what it had felt like after the almost sacrifice. Saw the aftermath and felt the pain of loss and watching one person slowly deteroriate in front of her from guilt. It had taken a year for them to get over it. For some semblance of normalcy to creep back into their lives but she didn't see the nemeton on her trip into bardo. No, she saw Lorraine. Or at least a version of herself and several other people. Perhaps it was the fact that she was a banshee, attracting death or being attracted to death but they just kept coming. In her head, the trauma got searing and she felt the anguish. She wanted it over. Her screams never broke surface because it was a constant show of screaming to predict the death of a soul she meets and screaming when she met an already dead soul. It was torture of the rawest form. Pure torture. Painful and unbearable and not deserving of anyone no matter their crime.

Jordan sped all the way to the hospital, jumping -and literally flying- out of the patrol car and towards the door only to run into Scott and Isaac who were in the same hurry that he was. "Wait, she called you too?" Parrish asked, not pausing even for a moment in his purposefully quick strides. He was afraid. No, he was terrified sick and going out of his mind but Melissa hadn't said much. Only asked him to come over and refused to say much else.

"Yeah." One of the teens said but he couldn't really differentiate who from who.

"And she didn't say anything? I'm taking the stairs." Jordan says, not really expecting an answer. He couldn't just take the elevator and stand in calmly for it to get there and he wasn't going to press the button multiple times in hopes of getting the elevators to go faster. Climbing the steps two or three at a time seem to be the most efficient way because barely a minute afterwards, he was running down the corridors towards Lydia's room with Scott and Isaac right on his tail. Derek had probably stayed behind to lock the car after the haphazzard way he had left it because when he got there, everyone with the exception of Derek was there. 

"We were close by when the call came in." Was all Peter felt he needed to say and that shrug was very... detailed, to say the least.

Melissa walked to them, a file in her hands. "I don't have much experience dealing with... you people and your medical needs but Deaton does. And after hours of talking to him, we still haven't come to a conclution. As of this morning, Lydia has been having a sort of reaction. Rashes, mostly." The frowns on their faces were identical.

"But... Maybe her body is fighting now. Like the last time." Scott provided, feeling he needed to at least try his hands at giving some hope to the pack.

"Last time was different. She was scratched and bitten by a wolf, this tine she was drained by a vampire. Different venoms, different methods and different aims but she hasn't gotten worse either. She's just... the same. Natalie is going out of her mind so I had to sedate her a while back but-"

And then everyone froze in their place, unmoving because that sound, that came from Lydia's room. "Stiles is asleep in there." Melissa reasoned, trying not to hope only to have it crushed hard but Parrish was having enough of it as he went to the door.

Derek stepped into the hallway just in time to hear Stiles scream from inside Lydia's room. "She's awake! Oh my god she's awake!!"


	2. Chances - [15th - 31st March, 2013]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Lydia makes an unpopular alliance with the "enemy".

Chapter 2 - Chances. [15th - 31st March 2012]

Lydia woke with a start and a very long gasp. Her throat felt parched and her eyes hurt as if someone was purposefully jabbing large surgery sized syringes into them and... She shut them tightly and fell back onto the pillows but of course, that started another torture all on its own. 

The images. 

They were still there. The memories from bardo where still humming behind her lids and in a distance, she heard Stiles' familiar voice but still couldn't find the strength to pull her lids open. She started spazzing on the bed, retreating to that state... That state of moments before a scream when she feels like she knows everything, like she has all the answers and its frustrating her because she can't remember what it is and her teeth are clattering together, her tongue feels heavy in her mouth and she's salivating like a horny dog.

"Oh my god, something's wrong.... She's shaking and getting all twirly!" Stiles let go of Lydia's hand and made a dash for the door anly to bump hard into Parrish whose reflexes were swift enough for him to grip Stiles' upper arms firmly and prevent the boy form falling on his back. 

The others crowded into the doorway only moments later, Melissa sneaking through them with a simple; "Allow me to check if-" 

She did not -could not- finish what she was saying when an ear splitting scream cut through the hospital room -and the whole hospital- , resonating off the walls in a loud shrill that had all the people in the room and those some few meters outside, clutching at their ears in discomfort and in the case of the weres, sheer pain.

When the episode passed, the group pulling their palms away from their ears somewhat reluctantly, they looked up to find Lydia sitting up in bed, a wry smile plastered on her lips.

"I guess it makes sense that a banshee would want to kill us all after she had a near death experience." Isaac mutters, moving over to the bed when it seemed the relief had crippled everyone into place. "What happened? You got tired of just predicting death so you chose to predict and kill with one terrific coming-back scream?" He asked, smile crooked when he stopped by the banshee's bed and leaned in to press a kiss to her forehead, muttering; "So good to have you back."

"Well, someone's being affectionate. Makes me dread asking how long I was gone." She muttered, her voice sounding like a croak.

That did the magic because suddenly, everyone was talking and overlapping each other and crowding her space and Lydia didn't mind even though she felt as if she was being pulled from all angles and not metaphorically because there were hands on her legs, arms, face... Practically everywhere. Not that she was complaining. She looked up to find Peter and Derek, both leaning against one side of the door frame, arms folded across their chests and legs crossed at the ankle in a twin pose that is so freakishly... Hale. 

Derek flashed a smile that could only be classified as happy, and Peter cocked a brow in a way that... For the first time since she met the man, she smiled at. It wasn't a happy smile because she deduced from that brow movevent that Peter knew -or had an idea- what she had gone through and maybe she was having a whole new perspective on the man because she was certain she hadn't been gone for more than a year and Peter was gone for six whole years. 

No she couldn't begin to imagine and this.... This was an entirely new feeling.

"Seriously guys, how long was I under?" she muttered when the pack backed away and Melissa took to adjusting her IV.

"Two long weeks." Stiles replied and Lydia couldn't help chuckling.

"Just two weeks? Wow, I wonder what kind of welcome I would get if I was... Please tell me you've been fixing my hair. Just because-"

"Well, if you must know, your mom and I take turns doing it. Mostly, she does it though." Kira cut in before the banshee could go into full panic about her hair.

"My mom... Where is she?"

"She stayed with us through the night and came back again after breakfast so mom forced her to get some sleep about an hour ago." Scott replied and Lydia nodded, snuggling into the sheets.

"So I may be terrified of going to sleep." She muttered, yawning.

"Try not to move too much. After all the hugs and smooches, your arm is bound to start swelling up." Melissa advised with a smile, pulling up Lydia's sheets even as the girl drifted into sleep.

"You don't think-?" Parrish started to ask and Melissa shook her head instantly. "Well, I'm staying here till she wakes."

"Me too." Scott added.

"Well, I guess that's settled." Isaac mutters to himself and pulled up a chair, sinking into it and pulling Scott into his lap. The others seemed to have made the silent decision to stay too as they all found chairs and... magazines to pass the time.

\-----

She visited Deaton a week after. Mostly because the vet hadn't visited her all the seven days she had been kept in the hospital after she woke up, for "examination" and because she had been told by Scott that the man had put off an important trip to try and figure out a way to save her. She was grateful. 

Really, truly grateful not just for Deaton but for Melissa and Scott and Stiles and Kira... and hell, even Cora and Peter and that's saying a lot. 

Later that day when she had woken up to find the whole pack camping by her bed, Mason had given her the biggest hug ever. And she was sure because her IV pad had shifted. Almost pulled right out of her arm and then had grinned sheepishly. 

Yes it hurt like a bitch but after what happened when she was in that coma, she was more than certain that these petty pains won't get much of a rise out of her.

Jordan was... Well, he was Jordan and she didn't quite understand why it surprised her when he got really protective of her. He basically went everywhere with her and for a while, she thought he had quit his job as deputy sheriff but alas! That wasn't the case. One more guardian angel for the Martin crew. Sheriff Stilinski. His excuse? Crime rate has gone down considerably in the past month or forthnight because the streets of Beacon Hills have been guarded by the pack -Indirectly- in their hunt for the vampire.

Speaking of the vampire, ever since she got out of the hospital a few days prior, she had been feeling him. It was a him. She knew it was a he because she had seen him before he had started draining her and that was another thing she couldn't shake off. After two weeks of hiding himself from the pack, why was he tailing her now? Recklessly and as though he had a death wish?

Or he knew that Lydia wouldn't hurt him.

{Or he's stalking you and waiting for the right time to pounce on you and redrain you. Maybe this time, make sure you never wake up.} The other side of her brain supplied (un)helpfully.

"Oookay that's it." Lydia muttered to herself as she dramatically heaved a sigh and stood up from her table at the coffee shop. It's a miracle she's alone to begin with. Since she came out of her coma, the rest of the pack have been hovering like a pack of worried lionesses! Sheesh even Cora did it and yes, that really was as disturbing as it got.

Her heartbeat pounding so loud she could taste her pulse on her tongue, her purse slung lazily on her shoulders although her fingers gripped at it tightly as though hanging on for dear life and pretty soon, she would be doing just that considering how light headed she seemed with every step she took.

She could literally hear Parrish's voice but oh no, it wasn't speaking to her and he was doing what he always did. Blame himself. Oh wait, Lydia's hair got wet from the rain. Parish: I should have gotten her a rain coat. 

Seriously. 

Growing up in Beacon Hills has its own perks and Lydia intended to use them to her full advantage. As she inched closer to the alleyway, she started to feel him. Closer, his stench stronger, the smell of death almost nauseating.

She stopped in front of the brick wall, not turning around to look at him because oh yes, he's behind her. 

Not attacking...

Not talking...

Just there.

"Well, If you're not going to say something or oh wait, and here's an idea you haven't thought of, suck my blood till I'm dead, then you're welcome to leave.

She heard shuffling from behind her and a muffled; "Yeah I'm sorry about that."

It was all Lydia needed as confirmation to turn around on her heels, a scoff hidden somewhere in the shuffling sounds she made. "Sorry?! Sorry is what you say to someone when you step on their foot in a- oh my god, you're just a kid!" The exclamation happened before she could stop herself and he chuckled before she could feel embarrassed.

"Don't let my youthfully good looks fool you. I got me a few additional years." The vampire replied with a smirk tugging on his brims.

"oh yeah? Like what? A century? Oh wait, there's probably a rule about meeting century old vampires. Perhaps I should eat dirt?"

"No I'm just a year old."

"That explains the random killings and almost killing me. Not from lack of trying, I might add."

"I'm really sorry about that. I did keep an eye out for you the whole time. The tall one. The blonde boy... Isaac, I believe his name is, he's... entertaining."

"I don't think you should *ever* let Isaac hear you say that. Aside the fact that he's Isaac and completely fearless and reckless even against people he knows will crash him with a single slap, he hates your guts." Lydia replied calmly.

"Your entire pack hates me. That's what you call it, right? A pack. It's interesting."

"Is that why you've been eludi- wait, that's not even my question. Have you been stalking us?!"

"No I've kept an eye out for you. The others are added bonus but I needed to make sure you were okay first. I'm Walter, by the way."

"Nice to meet you *this time*, Walter and I'm going to assume that you already know I'm Lydia." She shuckled, managing to surprise herself in the process.

He stood there for a while, the toes of his sandals digging into the dirt absentmindedly. To be honest, he had not expected this type of reaction from her. He had thought she would be on the offensive and he would be defensive but she was just... nice. It was like a good slap in the face but he didn't know where to go from there. He wasn't really the social butterfly.

"Scott seems..."

"Overprotective?" Lydia supplied, freakishly mirroring his actions.

"And nice."

"Well that explains why you clobbered him with god-knows-what till he was almost dead? You *really* really need protection from my pack because they're usually aggainst killing, except Peter, but this time, i'm certain even Stiles would not be against them mauling you into nonexistence."

"You and Stiles are best friends, I can tell. You speak like him complete with the picturesque description of all things gory."

It was easy banter after that and Lydia was surprised at how much fun she was having just from talking to Walter. Of course in the back of her mind, there was that vivid scene replaying itself. Like when you have to shoot your dog in the head 'cause it got rabid. That was not a pretty image but she supposed getting to know the guy while the rest of the pack were hunting for him with a virtual bounty on his head.

It wasn't supposed to be that easy and well, that was the thing that confused her the most that entire afternoon she spent with Walter. It was too easy being with him. Really. 

Somewhere in her head, and after every few minutes, she thought about how he had drained her, drunk her blood till she had gone into a coma but none of that mattered. Yes he still smelled like death and it had the same "I wanna scream" effect on her but it didn't matter.

She lost track of time then, too engrossed with finding out about Walter and his past and finding her inner dork rekindled and set aflame in a good way. The only quirk to that was the fact that she had no one to talk about it with. She could call Isaac... But nope. With what Walter had done to Scott, Isaac would be at his neck before the boy could get out the word; "hey."

Scott was out of the question too because it was personal vendetta against Walter now. Not just for what he had done to him but for what had happened to Lydia. It didn't take an expect to know that Scott had been pretty shaken by the whole experience and no she hadn't tried understanding what thoughts had coursed through his brain in that moment of helplessness.

And oooh Deaton. Admittedly, of the whole pack, he was the one who would be the least emotive about this but he was still going to wear the "I am so disappointed in you" look that Lydia had only seen directed at others and prayed it was never to her.

She could call the girls but then, Cora is... Well, she's Cora. And Malia and Kira have their own problems so she was not about to add to them.

And she wasn't that selfish.

The worst part of it all, was the knowledge that if Allison was here, she would also disagree.

It took her two full days of playing hide and seek with everyone to actually gather the courage to do what she thought was right. Of course that point of view was only relative but she still wanted to do it anyway.

"This... This right here is a really terrible idea." Walter muttered from beside her, his fingers drumming lightly and agitatedly on the dashboard as she drove all the way to her lakehouse.

"What, that you know the location and can get there faster yet are stuck in this 60km/h moving car with me?" Lydia tried for a lighter tone, smiling slightly when Walter took a moment away from his sulking to turn to her, a smile formed on his lips.

"No. I mean, introducing me to the pack. Please run your plan of action by me once again. -Hi everyone, I know your noses have already caught the farmiliar scent but yes, this is the blood sucking vampire who nearly killed me and he has come willingly for you to kill him.-" Walter managed in what he considered to be his best impersonation of Lydia's voice, causing the banshee to cackle.

"Don't be silly. Although, just to be safe, stay behind me at all times and make sure your super speed thing is handy and ready to be used."

"Like that would help. If a whole pack focuses their energy to finding me, they will. I read about a pack of wolves. I mean, I had an idea but after reading on werewolves, I'm a little wary of the lot. Besides, you have an abnormal pack. There's a coyote, a druid, kitsune, right? I mean, I eavesdropped at some point."

"Oh don't tell me you're scared."

"Oh who, me?" The vampire scoffed, his head bobbing from side to side in a gesture he hoped conveyed how incredulous he was, then his smile froze off his face dramatically. "Yeah I'm terrified."

"You'll be fine, really." Lydia muttered, giving the boy's hand a gentle squeeze as she shut down the engine and pulled the key out of the ignition. "Come on, the party awaits."

"Oh yeah.. The party where my flesh is served as little dices for appetizer."

"We're not cannibals. Besides, our alpha is against that." And that was a cheap shot but Lydia had to at least crack Scott's resolve before they stepped inside as she was more than certain that the pack could already hear them and have a fair idea what and who their "date" for the night was going to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little short but I hope you liked it still.


	3. Of Arguments and Pasts - [1st - 14th April, 2013]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Pack meets the villian and not everyone thinks he's cute.

Chapter 3 - Of Arguments and pasts; [1st - 14th April 2012]

The grey clouds above and the wet, slippery pavement below was evidence of a rainy day. The bleak, gray-hued sky -or at least what it looked like- hung above him as though to make mockery of him.  
Men and women alike strode along the sidewalk with their umbrellas in hand to hinder the falling rain and all he had was his old, upbeat and rickety Dodge Charger which had been his father's first car and apparently, all he was entitled to. 

He pulled into the alley to park his car behind the building complex and opened his umbrella to shield himself from the  
downpour, walking past a Café's front entrance and unlocking the side door. He went up a flight of stairs and to his  
left, he came upon another door at the end of the hallway. He looked down at a slip of paper in his hand and up again at the door. "Room 87," He muttered solemnly, a part of him still finding it hard to believe that this was going to be his home for the next... Well, forever. 

The key opened the door -a part of him had expected it not to because well why the hell not? Everything else was shite so far anyway- and he peered inside. It was small, about the size of a regular bedroom, and was just big enough to fit a bed and a desk with little room for anything else.

There were several windows overlooking the streets below. It would take some time to get used to, but it wasn't as bad as he thought it would be, all things considered. Tony, his best friend and partner in crime had given him the key to the apartment and said that it belonged to his dead uncle but no one ever used it so there was that and he had had reservations. 

Essentially, he would love to blame his parents for the shit he got himself into and yes, admittedly, having a relationship with their answering machines and lawyers did push him close to insanity and the stupid idea that if he did something drastic, then they would take time off their busy schedules and come home even for a day.

They hadn't. No, of course not. They had just sent the lawyer to tell him that his funds were cut off and he was not getting financial support of any kind. Apparently, dealing drugs at age 17 can earn you a few things. Like broken bones, a gun to your head, bloodied lips and yes, the rocker! Being disowned by your parents. His life really was perfect. 

Actually, the view was really nice. He thought to himself when he pulled from his self pitying mental haze and realized he had somehow made his way to the window and was staring at the view before him.

Later that night, he laid awake to the sound of the pouring rain, which made him feel at peace -strangely-. The sound the rain emitted made it seem as though there were no tomorrow and time was standing still just for him as all he did in that moment was to stare out the window at the bright, luminescent moon, cradled between the numerous stars dotted across the vast grey sky as far as the eye could see, and wished that the night would never end. 

But it did.

He woke up to the chirping of birds and the streets already bustling with early morning commuters. It was a sunday  
and the rain continued to fall. It took a lot more courage to finally make his way out of his room and into the café below for a warm breakfast meal. 

The rains had come down on and off over the next few days and really, he had no complaints whatsoever about that. It's not like he had any friends in the new neighborhood and he enjoyed to a great extent, the fact that he was hidden away from the men he owed money to. 

He still wasn't sure if he would ever pay them the money he owed them but he was sure he needed a job so he had spent the next few months searching for a job and he got a job, working at the small market right down the street, selling navel oranges and other assorted fruits. 

The job helped him understand work ethics, discipline and hard labor in a way years of schooling never did and it was also a great character builder and kept him from vandalizing as a means of occupying his time like he did back in high school. The move from Sunderland, a local government district of Tyne and Wear, in North East England, to Washington DC. was a huge one and he started to realize the minute changes that were happening inside and quite honestly, he liked it.

Friday nights were his exception to the rule days. He needed an outlet. No he wasn't sure what exactly he had been letting out as his job barely had any added stress.

It was on one of those times that me met Godric. He was hot. That was a summary because the young man had been all sorts of beautiful and sinful in the way that had you undressing him mentally and laughing out loud at everything he said while your body rubbed against his as though yearning for a touch only he can give and yes. He had. Oh dear he had but sadly, the night had ended and not wanting to come off as desperate, he just said a simple goodbye and went on his way, arms tucked in his pockets as he staggered down the wet streets to his place.

He wasn't much of a boastful person but he did have his charms and occassionally, he indulged in his vanities. He was tall of about 6"1, large blue eyes, dirty blond hair that curled at the top and straightened at the back which he mostly kept at 2 inches and trimmed neat, and a relatively fit body for a guy his age and perhaps Godric had realized that because later that night, while he laid wide awake and uneasy about sleep in his room alone, the rain outside pounding harder than a hammer on the streets outside and soon, as usual, his mouth became dry and he slowly got out of his bed to get a drink from the bathroom faucet. 

He turned the nozzle, but nothing came out of the faucet. With a huge sigh, he made his way to the small table-top fridge he had bought a few days prior. He did not feel like drinking chilled water, mostly because the weather was too cold and he was feeling quite cold already without the added props but stopped dead in his tracks when he heard a knock at the door.

To a bystander or onlooker, the reaction was a little exaggerated but it was a perfectly normal one considering he didn't have a single friend in town but reluctantly, he made his way to the door, pulling it open just as slowly as his jaw droped open.

The last thing he remembered when he finally came to some oh three million years later, was Godric's angelic face, the flashing in his eyes that he had thought were from the reflection of the fluorescents in the hall, and his gorgeous smile and sinful body.

Of course he realized soon enough that he hadn't been off for a century and yes, his body felt changed. Up until that moment, he had been a virgin but he was pretty sure he wasn't anymore but he had no memory of what had actually happened. The silly teenager part of his brain was ecstatic that he had finally got with someone. Someone who looked like god and the devil wrapped in a manly body.

But that was when he saw the note. It had read simply; I'm sorry about last night. It should not have happened. I lost control sometime after the third round and I just wish you luck. You're going to need it.

And boy had he. It took a total of ten murders and intense cravings to finally escape Washington. He was seventeen and on the run. Away from the cops and wanted for the murder of ten innocent people -and counting.

It has been a whole year since then. Of course he had more knowledge about himself. What he was, what he ate, how he survived and just basically everything except how to stop craving blood.

So the body piled up after him. He zoomed through a state and left a trail of bodies behind, elusive and revelling in his immortality while a dorminant part of him felt guilt even as he drained those people senseless then healed their wounds with his blood.

He didn't know why. California was supposed to be a short trip. Raid a few hospitals, find a few bad people and drain to minimize the amount of guilt but something kept drawing him to Beacon Hills and the night he found himself there, 379 nights after he was turned, he understood why.

Now, standing at the door of Lydia's lakehouse, the only survivor of his draining sessions, he was terrified for the first time in a whole year. Terrified of what he would see, of what laid ahead... Funny, he never thought about the future.

Lydia had paused at the doorway, her hand on the knob when she realized the boy behind him was zoned out. She could have gone ahead of him to secure him safety but she didn't quite trust that any of the others weren't waiting out there and ready to pounce on the unsuspecting boy. Taking a deep breath and letting it out after what felt like three centuries later, she reached behind her and pulled Walter by the hand, smiling in a way she hoped was reassuring and the boy just nodded in a way that could only be interpretted as "what's the worst that could happen?"

She pushed the door of the house open and stepped in, pulling Walter up behind her. When she looked up, it was to find the whole pack standing, some in a pose that said they were aloof but that was obviously just a façade to fool the poor boy. Isaac was the only one sitting, his ankle placed on the knee of his other leg and Lydia's heart was pounding hard and fast in her chest as though she had done something unthinkable -which technically, she had, but who's checking?-

Swallowing loudly, she moved Walter from behind her so they were standing shoulder to shoulder. Well, shoulder to arm because that guy was tall. "Hey guys... This is Walter." She managed after a while when no one said anything. Not even Stiles.

Isaac remained in his seat, frozen in place just like the rest of the pack. There was that dilemma of whether Lydia conned the guy there so they can beat the shit out of him or whether she brought him there really, to introduce them. One way to find out.

With a small smile playing across his lips, he jumped up from his seat in one sudden movement and strode lazily across the room to the pair, not needing to see the looks on the faces of the others to know their horror. When he got close enough, he stretched out his arm.

"Took you two long enough to get here. I'm Isaac."

Taken aback -hell, at this point, everyone in the room was taken aback- Walter reached out to take Isaac's offered hand, his smile freezing in the next instant when he felt a very firm fist connecting smack in the middle of his face. "Okay... I saw that one coming." He muttered, blinking the room back into focus.

"Oh? Did you see this-" The next one connected with the vampire's jaw. "- one coming?" Isaac asked with a freakishly friendly smirk as he flexed his knuckles. Punching the guy was just like punching through the walls of a millitary fort used for slave trade. Not that he would know but this hurt like hell.

"I'm guessing the first one was because of what I did to Scott and the second was for Lydia." Walter managed, rubbing his jaw.

Before Isaac could take another swing at the boy, Lydia pulled him back with surprising strength and stepped between them.

{ookay I got my answer.} Isaac thought, not sure he wanted to be part of the drama that was about to unfold.

"Are you insane?!" That was Parrish from the back of the room and suddenly, there was too much talking and too much noise and Isaac looked only to the person he cared for most. Scott wasn't speaking. He didn't look as mad as Parrish or as shocked and outraged as the rest but he wasn't speaking. He wasn't moving either and that alone was cause for worry. 

Later, perhaps, he would ask how in the world the guy seemed to be familiar with the whole pack but in that moment, getting to Scott and wrapping his arms around him was the top of his scale of preference.

He was feeling a lot of things. He was feeling too many things. On one hand was the worry and deep love he felt for Lydia and on the other was the fact that she had lied to him and was now taking the side of the guy who had wanted to kill her! Jordan was outraged.

He had laid off the desire to maim the guy during the weeks that followed her waking up but for her to actually...

"I know what you're thinking. I've been thinking it too." Lydia says after a while when the overlapping voices subdued.

"Oh you have? Because it doesn't seem like it." Parrish was having none of this. He felt like his head was splitting open right down his forehead.

"Walter is a good person who just made a mistake." She argued.

"How many of these mistakes has he made already and how many more do you think he's going to make? I, for one, can take care of myself but I'm not about to lose the important people in my life just because of your chickstincts!" Peter managed to say that as calmly as he could, reaching for a still Stiles and pulling him along as he made his way out of the back door, Derek giving her a small smile before he followed after them.

Lydia was crestfallen but she still didn't let go of the vampire's hand. She looked around the room to find Scott. He was the only one she trusted to calm the rest of the pack down and she felt deflated when she realized he was absent. Along with Isaac.

"I think it's better if I go." Walter muttered from beside her and with a sigh, she nodded, shaking her head at the rest of the people in the room before dragging the boy back out with her.

"I'm sorry about this. For what it's worth, I did tell you it was a terrible idea." Walter managed with a smile. Honestly, he had expected a far worse reation than he had gotten.

"Oh no, mister. You're not going out of town. I'm not ready to give up on you yet."

"See that's the thing. You don't even know me."

"I know enough. A person's past doesn't determine whether or not there is some goodness left in them. Peter should know that better than anyone." Lydia muttered the last part.

"Be honest, you agree with what he said. I've killed people, Lydia. Hundreds, I'm sure. I stopped counting a while back but I don't have any control whatsoever and I can't be trusted with anything. You can't trust me. My nature doesn't allow that."

"I already told you I'm not giving up on you and i'm gonna help. Just promise me you won't leave town. Not yet anyway."

"I can't do that." Walter muttered in a way that made Lydia's brows furrow consciously.

"When did you last feed?"

"Uhh... A week ago...? Now you understand why I need to get out of town?"

"So that what, you can gulp down some innocent girl's blood and kill her? This is more reason for you to stay. Meet me later tonight at the animal clinic, alright? I'm going to shower and get there soon."

"Human blood-"

"Is nicer, I know. But in this town, animal blood is all you're going to get. And maybe bloodbags so you better start getting used to that."

Walter chuckled, shaking his head. "A female friend. I never thought me the type to have one of those."

"First, we're not handbags and yes, I'm offended."

"-Sorry."

"-Shush! Second, this coming from a guy who had *one* drug dealing buddy all his life... Is not flattering at all. Go on. I'll meet you in an hour."

"You're gonna be okay?"

"Oh please don't be ridiculous. I have a pack. Worry about yourself." She chuckled, waving when the teen vampire zoomed off. She looked back at the door then moved to her car. She could face off the rest but she had no strength to fight with Jordan at the moment so choosing what others might call the cowardly way, she got into her car and drove back to town.

\-----

Scott and Isaac sat silently on the deck, each pretending not to have eavesdropped on the conversation that had happened.

"You do know that-" Isaac started to saw after a while.

"I know. The bigger picture." Scott sighed, rubbing his palms over his face. "Have I told you how much I hate being the reasonable one sometimes?"

"Mm.. I don't think so. I would have remembered." Isaac replied dryly.

"She's gonna keep seeing him, you know that. Everyone who heard that knows that. Peter is also right. What if Stiles gets hurt? And Mason? Or the rest of us. He's dangerous. For everyone. Whether it's here in Beacon Hills or out there."

"mhm."

"But I won't sleep if I see on the news that someone has been murdered. We would all be at fault and maybe then, he won't be ready and open to the idea of help."

"That's right." Isaac agreed.

"So maybe we'll keep the humans away from him."

"Yeah for how long?"

"For as long as it takes. We teach him to have some control because Lydia can't do that on her own."

"Besides I'll love a chance to punch him a few times." Derek chipped in from the shadows, never quite showing himself. He had stayed behind while Peter took Stiles home to the loft.

Scott shook his head in the general direction of the man.

"I would definitely love that too." Cora added, joining them.

"Oh hell yeah!" Liam chipped in.

"Guys..." Scott tried to sound somber but he liked the idea too much. He was starting to get the beginning of a memory of the alpha twins beating him shitless to teach him control. Oh that ought to have been fun.

"I'm guessing by the evil grin on your face that that plan has your seal of approval?" Malia asked.

"Oh hell yeah!" Scott esclaimed, jumping up to stretch his muscles out. "Looks like we have a vet to s- where's Parrish?"

"He left a while back. Pissed didn't quite cut it but I don't blame him. This is stupid and well, it's Lydia... Choosing to be with tho same guy who almost killed her just a month ago." Liam chipped in, the others nodding solemnly.

"I do hope he understands our decision."

"Yeah I hope Peter does. Chances are, I'm going to get the silent treatment for a long time." Derek sighed.

"No one needs to know that." Malia muttered, Isaac's head snapping sharply towards her.

"Speak for yourself. Or don't speak at all."

Scott cleared his throat noisily.

"Alright fine. Let's find Deaton."

\-----

Two weeks. That was how long it has been since the pack had told Walter he was going to be trained for a while to test if he was a lost case or if he was salvageable.

That was how long it had been since Jordan last spoke to Lydia. She was devastated but everytime she tried speaking to him, "something" came up. It was work, or something else and yes she knew what he was doing and she didn't quite like it. No. Not in the slightest and feeling torn was not pleasing at all. 

She wanted to do the typical girl thing and be mad too but somehow, she knew that would only make matters worse and in spite of her literally continuously throwing herself at him, she knew -or at least her instincts did- that whatever was going on with her boyfriend, had a lot more to do with other stuff and not just what had happened with the pack and her introducing the vampire to them.

That was a valid reason, and although a part of her wanted Jordan to speak to her, another part of her thought that the next time he did, it would be to end things with her and she dreaded it.

Although it never came up, they never proclaimed their love for each other. No. It was the silent kind of loving and the occassional "I love you but sometimes you can be...." phrase.

It was almost a year since they had officially gotten together and was officially her longest relationship. It most definitely was not something she was okay with losing.

The anxiety was killing her.

Jordan had no idea why it hit him the way it did and for a while, he stayed up long hours trying to figure out just why, for some reason, that little incident affected him more than it should.

He wasn't even angry at the vampire anymore. Hell, he was in support of Scott's idea to help the kid but for some reason, he could not bring himself to stop being angry at Lydia. It went beyond her lying to him and after a week, when he had gotten nowhere with his theories, he decided on one final and equally drastic measure to find out just why.

Hypnosis.

For Isaac, the absense of Stiles is their normal circle for most of the time except during school hours meant that he was bored most of the time. With no one to pick on and Scott being busy devising strategies with Derek, he was left with reading. Around him, everything else seemed to be falling apart.

As substitute, he found his torture pet in the vampire, who seems to be well prepared for anything considering he never cracked no matter how much pressure the true alpha and former alpha put on him.

"Hey Walter, don't you just wanna split a vein open and..."

"Isaac!" Derek bellowed from across the room, Isaac only shrugging. His posture showed nothing of remorse.

"I'm just exposing him to the real world. You can't call it training if you're keeping him sheltered from the real world. He needs to be tempted. Come on, tell me about feeding. How does it feel?" He directed at the boy.

"It feels like eating pizza after a very long day of craving it." Walter replied, shrugging when he slumped into the couch beside Isaac.

"So pizza was your favorite?"

"Yeah and adderall. At some point I took warfarin, methotrexate, cortisone, trypthophan and prozac. I kinda lost count over the years and I was on them at different times and no, my doctor didn't prescribe them. I got them from dealers and after a while, I started dealing myself."

Okay, that got Scott's attention. His brows were furrowed as he turned to Derek, the other guy looking on passively. 

"From the look on your face, I'm guessing those drugs aren't good?" Derek muttered, arms crossed across his broad chest, both standing a safe distance from where Isaac sat with Walter. Not that it made much of a difference. Both Isaac and Walter could hear them.

"Not good?" The alpha hissed. "Overtaking... Not overdosing. Overtaking these drugs could kill you. At least I know no one in their right mind would take cortisone continuously for two weeks."

"No wonder you look like shit." Isaac cut in quickly. Of course he had heard Scott's words and he would bet anything that Walter had too.

"Most people think i'm hot." The vampire replied easily, falling back in the couch and almost purring lazily when he curled onto his side.

"Most people are stupid." The blonde wolf muttered, hating the fond tone that crept into his words.

"And for what it's worth, I *do* miss feeding. There's something satisfying about draining a pulse while you feel someone's pulse weaken through your palms. And when it slows, there's the battle where your human side wants to keep the person alive, screams how wrong this is but your new self craves it till it overpowers you. I suppose I do understand older vamps now. After a while of arguing with yourself -and losing- you just stop altogether." The other teen whispered, a dreamy feel to his words.

"Walter-"

"I know. I won't feed on humans. Not anymore. It won't be called a sacrifice if it doesn't hurt like crap and besides, I made a committment to Lydia and I intend to follow through with it."


	4. The Much Needed Talk - [15th - 30th April, 2013]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where hypnosis fucks Jordan up.

Chapter 4 - [15th - 30th April 2012]

The next few days were pure torture for Jordan. Most of his days were spent in awful confusion and not because he remembered what he wanted to remember. That was actually the problem.

Hypnosis was supposed to help him remember what it was, what may have happened in his past that was silently fuelling his anger towards Lydia. It was disconcerting to say the least but it was more frustrating to know that the psychologist heard everything he said when he was in a state of hypnosis but he didn't remember any of it and although it has only been three sessions, he was feeling exposed and vulnerable.

The deputy sat at his desk in the sheriff's station, trying to go through some old files that Sheriff Stilinski had offered him. Crime rates have gone down considerably over the last few weeks and he really needed to get busy or he feared he was going to go out of his mind.

He refused to think about anything except work for the past few weeks. It was three weeks since he last spoke to Lydia and he wasn't close to finding out what his problem was. Oh how he wished this could be a supernatural problem so he can get some help from others but this had to do with his past and...

... And he really really shouldn't be giving into his thoughts. He shook his head and rubbed his palm across his face tiredly. He wouldn't be shocked if saw he now had gray hair at his temples.

And that's when it hit him. A wave of surreal energy that had him jumping from his seat, the chair toppling over loudly but the man just stood still, his eyes staring straight ahead of him, unblinking;

The flashes started with him, at an age where he was certain he was not older than three years old.

Jordan stood there, frozen and gripped with terror as he saw the man whom he was quite certain was his father, pull out a gun and aimed it at the petite woman, her face streaked with tears as she wore a look that suited smeone who had given up. He watched as his mother was shot to death by his father, who then turned the gun on himself and stood frozen still for hours just looking at the bloodied and lifeless bodies of his parents. A cry tore through the room and it seemed to jerk the three year old out of his shock as he run through the pool of blood to open the closet and right there on the floor, wrapped in a woolen blanket with the letter "M" written on it's blanket, was a little baby. Helpless tears shot into his eyes as he looked around the apartment, unsure what to do to stop the baby from cryng and finally, as if deciding it was best, the three year old Jordan, totally disregarding the blood on the floor, made his way to his parents.

He was found asleep on the bed, in between the bodies of his parents, curling up closer to the lifeless body of his mother with his baby sister tucked between them. This fatal incident was the last event in a chronic pattern of domestic violence, substance abuse, and chaotic living. The boy lay there for a while before the door was kicked in and loud noises flooded the apartment.

Then arms were prying him away from his mother but he didn't let go of his sister and after several failed efforts, they stopped, allowing the boy to cling onto his now calm sister.

When Sheriff Stilinski heard the noise from outside, he assumed goodheartedly that it was just an accident probably caused by the intern sent to him from Beacon County a few months ago. The young man was a nervous wreck all the time anyway.

But after several calls of "Parrish? Parrish! Hey man, are you okay?" he couldn't keep such a blind eye and ear to it and walked out to see the deputy, face ashen and pale like he just saw several ghosts, the nervous Tim standing a safe distance away, looking even more agitated than he did on a normal day.

The sherriff grabbed the younger man by the shoulders, shaking him gently at first and then intensified the jerks till he saw some recognition in the other's eyes. "Hey. You sure you're okay?"

Parrish nodded in agreement, a little absentminded and jerky as his eyes roamed around the room. His hands were held out in fromt of him like he could still feel his sister in his arms, eyes darting down to his feet to check for the blood but there was none. There was no blood.

He looked up at the sheriff then blinked again. "Yeah. Yeah sir I'm fine but can I have an hour break? Something I need to take care of."

"Uh sure. There's little work to do anyway." The sheriff muttered, pulling away from the younger man and watching as he effortfully tried to walk calmly out of the station.

"What was that about?" Tim whispered dramatically from beside the sheriff.

"I don't know but whatever it was, it wasn't good."

He barged into the office he knew too well, the woman who occupied the chair behind the desk just looked up at him briefly then went back to what she had been writing although she did not ignore him because before he could say anything else, her words cut across the room to him from where he was still standing at the door.

"From the look on your face and your body language, I'm guessing that you remembered some of your repressed memories?"

"I want it to stop." Was all Jordan said. He wasn't sure he could handle all the emotions welling up inside him. He couldn't handle it and none of those were pleasant.

"I told you before we started the procedure. When you open the can, the worms come out. People don't repress good memories, Jordan." She says calmly, pulling away from her desk and stepping around it to the chair she sat in for their sessions. "And we can stop our meetings anytime you want but I can't guarantee the memories would stop. In fact I can tell you with extreme confidence that they'll get worse. If there are more repressed memories, they'll all find a way to the surface. Using hypnosis is you literally breaking down all your brain's defenses. I told you all this before we started."

He sighed, slumping against the wall, palms cupping his face as the emotions he had kept in check the whole ride over welled up to the surface and he broke down on the therapist's floor, curled up in the way three year old him had, against his mother's body.

He would have loved for them to stop but they didn't. No of course not. Over the next few days, all he did was remember. Everything and anything. He really felt like death boiled over and close to depression all over again.

The aunt who took custody of Jordan wanted him to just forget what he had  
gone through, but his nightmares and  
behavior showed that his memories  
were sad and frightening and as espected, she got frustrated really quick.

As it turned out, his childhood was filled with many memories. There were the normal memories of playing with his sister, cousins and friends, going to the movies, and hanging out at the mall. Most of his memories were of a loud angry household. His most vivid childhood memories and dreams were of his aunt screaming at him, calling him names, and putting him down. 

Occasionally, she would spank them. When she did, she would be so angry that  
she would lose control. When she would get angry with them, she would yell and call them names, purposely being hurtful. 

His first such memory was when he was 5 years old. They were getting ready for church and he was unable to find one of his shoes. When he told his aunt, she yelled and screamed that he had misplaced the shoe on purpose so that he wouldn’t have to go to church. On the way to church, she continued by telling him that he was the devil and had nothing but evil in him. 

Another memory occured when he was in the fourth grade -or at least according to the dream-, he went to a new school. For the first four or five months, he was picked on and bullied. When he told his aunt, her first response was to ask him what he had done to make them pick on him. 

It was about this time that he began to believe that he was less than, not as good as, other kids. When he woke up from that dream, he couldn't shake of the feeling and a part of him feared he may have carried that feeling into adulthood, and still fight with it till date even without realizing it.

In the back of his mind, he was very aware that this was not what he had signed up for. He had just wanted to understand his sudden darker feelings towards his girlfriend and was instead burdened with memories of the past that he truly had mixed feelings about.

On one hand was the fact that he felt these memories were robbed of him and he deserved and had the right to know them but on the other hand was the fact that knowing these things were slowly breaking him down, tearing him apart in the most painful ways. Especially because he still had a vivid recollection of seeing his father kill his mom then himself without even seeing that Jordan was also in the room, or that that baby had been hidden away from him.

He had researched, taken all files about that case from years ago. Crack. Cocaine and marijuana and a whole list of shit that his father had been on. Typical, and presumably, he had no idea what he was doing. None at all.

The next memory flash he had was on a night out in town, eating chinese. It was a day during the summer before seventh grade and he was working on a puzzle when a friend called. He had gently asked his aunt to ask her if he could call him back later because he was almost finished. 

She did as he had asked, but after she hung up the phone she flew into a rage and told him what a twat he was and that he would never have any friends. 

He wanted to think that because he repressed that memory, it had no effect whatsoever on him but he looked at his life over the years, at least the bits of it that he remembered, and looked at the half empty box of noodles in front of him as well as the fact that he was eating alone and realized that he still carries that with him. 

In spite of all the memories, he still had none on where his sister was. These events were not as rare as it would  
appear. His aunt would often yell, scream and put him down. By his early to mid-teens, it was routine. It was part of  
his day. 

The only upside to his anutie's rages was that she wouldn’t speak to him for a few days afterward. The silence was calming. He enjoyed it while he could. 

The odd part of the memories and dreams was that amidst the profuse sweating and heaving breaths, as well as the real pain he felt after recalling them, he had no hatred at all towards the woman who had played a part in ruining his life. He had no hatred for his father too and that brought about the fear that he was not emotionally open.

It certainly did not help that the psychiatrist had asked him the same question the next day at therapy lessons.

He was still trying to soak in the question as he was supposed to give her an answer at their next session when the rocker happened. He had opened a case file about teen drug abuse that had ended terribly and had flashes of a time in his life when he himself did drugs and drank. Junior high and high school. 

And so did she. Melody. That was her name. Melody Parrish, his little sister. Heart pounding in his chest, his pulse racing and his eyes burning with moisture, he followed this particular memory till it ended. Right in the place it usually ended. Prison. She was sixteen and in prison and he was eighteen and being taken to a psychiatric who prescribed antidepressants and anti-anxiety  
medication. 

Everyday was a struggle with self-esteem and everyday afterwards, he fought to believe he was not the person his aunt said he was. 

It must have been sometime during the time afterwards when his body or brain had decided that his sister was one more painful memory that needed to be repressed.

When he came to, the sheriff was standing across his desk with a worried look on his face and that was when he felt the moisture on his cheeks. Oh god he hated this. So much he couldn't stand it. He opened his mouth to explain but the older man just held up his palm in a stopping gesture.

"You don't need to give me an explanation. You owe me nothing. You do owe yourself some rest and you're going to get it by my order and don't come back to work until you have whatever you're dealing with, in check. This is law enforcement and I need you in tip-top shape. Uh-uh. Don't argue with me. Tim's here and the pack is too. I'm sure we can hold down the fort here for a while. Now wipe your face and Tim will drive you home. TIM!" he called, the other guy entering the room in a bustle of limbs that reminded him too much of someone he couldn't remember.

\-----

She has had enough of the avoidance. She just couldn't handle the cold shoulder Jordan had been giving her since she had shown Walter to the pack and she knew for a fact, because Scott, and Walter, had told her that Jordan hadn't been angry or opposing to the idea of helping the other boy so for the life of her she just couldn't comprehend why he was still being cold to her and not returning her calls and text messages.

It seemed as though the deputy was fine with everyone except her and she really could not accept that so taking the firm decision after a time out in the town and knowing full well that it was a school night and her boyfriend was a little critical about her staying out late on school nights when there was no emergency.

Well, to her, when your boyfriend was ignoring you without any valid explanation, it was a certain emergency. She sighed deeply, pushing the glass door to the station open and stepping inside, her eyes darting instantly to Parrish's desk only to find it empty.

"If you're looking for the deputy, I drove him home a few hours ago because the Sheriff asked me to." Someone said from behind her and if he hadn't said those words, perhaps she would have taken a moment to wonder how long it had been since she was last there. Apparently long enough to miss the new addition to the law enforcement family.

"Why, couldn't he drive himself?" She asked, turning to face the other guy.

"He has kind of been out of it lately." He shrugged nonchalantly, stepping around Lydia with a pack of files in his arms. "I guess today was the boiling point so Sheriff Stilinski asked me to drive him home and told him not to come back till he was fine. You're Lydia, right?" 

"Uuh yeah. How do you- I mean..."

"I'm an intern here. I used to live in Beacon County but when I was posted here, I hired a single room apartment a few blocks away. Pretty cheap too so the way I see it, everyone -namely me- wins." He finished, finally flashing a smile at the strawberry blonde bombshell.

"Yeah that's smart. I guess I'll check up on Jordan then." She says, her tone friendly as she smiled and turned away, heading back out as the worry seeped back into her system.

Her heart was still pounding loudly when she pounded on Jordan's door fifteen minutes later and kept pounding till the deputy, looking groggy, eyes swollen and red-rimmed and wearing his pyjama pants and bare-chested, opened the door.

She didn't allow him to say anything when she shoved him aside and walked into the apartment. "I'm not going away until you tell me what's going on. Did I do something so wrong that you hate me now?" She asked, a part of her dreading that he would respond in the affirmative.

"What, no. Of course not. I'm just tired and really. I just want to rest for a long time." Parrish replied, locking the door behind him before following Lydia back into the room.

Something in his tone might have done something to Lydia because when she turned around, she didn't wear the determined look she had when she had walked in but instead, one of worry. With a sigh, she stepped close to her boyfriend to cup his cheeks in her tender palms, the pads of each thumb brushing on their respective cheeks. "When was the last time you took a rest?" She asked instead although she wanted to ask what was going on.

"Well, technically, I was resting when you started pounding on my door." He muttered lazily.

"Alright, get in bed, I'll make you some soup and uhh... maybe a hot bath and some towels okay?"

The man blinked. Then blinked again. No, of course he hadn't expected the offer. Mostly because he always thought Lydia was terrible in the kitchen because she always gave that as an excuse to not cook for the pack. That aside, the comfort and pampering was a welcome change to his constant migraines over the last few weeks.

Sometime during the night, hours after Jordan had fallen asleep, Lydia did too.

 

When she woke up, she was tucked under the sheets in Jordan's bed and the man was sitting propped against a pillow on top of the sheets.

"Do you know I wanted to be a prison guard when I was growing up? I mean by 18, that was my dream. My sister was locked up in prison by then so I'm guessing that was a motivating factor about that. Maybe I also liked the fact that it was a job filled with danger because yes, the guards have clubs. Yes, they're outside the bars. But even if they're extremely careful, things still happen. In 1971, a riot at Attica claimed the lives of 11 guards, 32 inmates, and caused serious injury to 89 others (four of them guards). In 1980, at New Mexico State Prison, seven guards were beaten, stabbed, burned or raped. Somehow they all lived. Thirty-three prisoners, however, did not. 

These are just the big incidents that get national attention. In maximum security, every day is an adventure you won't hear about on the news. Danger is always one angry con away. The numbers work against you. There are guard shortages in correctional facilities across America. How about a proportion of 15 guards to 1,136 inmates? These were the numbers in New Mexico State Prison when all hell broke loose." The young man said casually as if talking about the weather.

She didn't know where he was going with that. Hell, she didn't know why he was starting this whole conversation and a... a sister?! She had no idea. He never mentioned her and she just always assumed he was one of those people who were broken inside and just barely holding the pieces together and the last thing she wanted was to be the reason he broke to many bits.

"And before I went into the army, I wanted to be a presidential guard. It was more of an obsession at some point, I think. And again, I'm guessing it was because of the danger involved in that. I mean just imagine; You're the leader of the most powerful nation in the world and make decisions that may not always be popular. As the highest-profile person in the highest-profile country, you are a target for political assassins, madmen, and malcontents. And a select few among them take an extreme step: They attempt to end your life. The president of the United States is an extremely perilous job, more so than you might expect. Look at the numbers. Four presidents were assassinated: Abraham Lincoln in 1865, James Garfield in 1881, William McKinley in 1901, and John Kennedy in 1963. In addition, there were near-fatal attempts on six other presidents: Andrew Jackson in 1835, Teddy Roosevelt in 1912, Franklin Roosevelt in 1933 (as president-elect), Harry Truman in 1950, Gerald Ford in  
1975, and Ronald Reagan in 1981. Do the math. There have been forty-three U. S. presidents and ten of them have been attacked. Four succeeded in killing their targeted leader, and two others in injuring him. In addition, there were other attempts that were foiled before the perpetrators got close enough for “near-miss” status. These ten attempts are only the highly publicized ones we know about."

And at this point, Lydia was sitting cross-legged on the bed, facing her boyfriend who looked really absent. She was stunned. Not because of anything else but with the ease with which he recalled the events as though it was a part of his daily routine to say them and it was the most normal thing in the world.

Parrish blinked, shifting in bed till he was focused on her again. "You're probably wondering why I'm suddenly bringing these up." he muttered.

Lydia shrugged her shoulders, going for an air of nonchalance and not quite achieving it. "Yeah among other things. Yes. Yeah I am." she finally whispered.

"That's because I just remembered them. I saw a psychologist a while back. Some things were just not adding up in my life so I opted for hypnosis and since then, memories keep flooding in. I can barely stop my nails from clawing out my face." The last words were said on a gasp. "I just..."

"...Don't have to do it alone." Lydia chipped in gently, shifting closer to him and cautiously as though approaching a lion. "You've got the whole pack. And most importantly, you've got me. And I'm not going anywhere okay? I'm not going anywhere." She managed when she was close enough to pull him in for a hug.

Jordan practically melted against her as she wrapped her arms around him and even though it seemed he was done with the tears, he did break down utterly, the words pouring out before he could stop them as he recountered his past to her.

She spent most of wednesday in bed with Parrish, her palm rubbing his back and fingers occassionally running up to tangle through his hair as she looked down fondly at the sleeping man. A part of her brain was still processing all that he had said while the other was reaffirming the respect and love she had for the man.

\-----

She had been thrilled when Jordan had asked her to join him on his last session and of course she had agreed. It was a monday and they had driven over for the one and half long session, the two saying goodbyes and thanks before parting ways but not before the psychologist slipped her a note that simply read; [Come see me tomorrow. Alone.]

she did, and the woman wasted no time in going straight to the point. "If you're in the live theater of combat, death is all around. Your ticket can get punched from all sorts of projectiles. Bullets, bombs, missiles, or you can get maimed. Landmines, booby traps, snipers are only some of the ways you can meet   
disaster and none of them are pretty. Usually, you never see it coming. It can come from friendly fire or those who may or may not be friendlies. In Iraq, as was often the case in Vietnam, the front line is not necessarily on a traditional battlefield, but often on the street, where you don't know who your enemy is until it's too late. Your government may decide to use chemical warfare (such as napalm and Agent Orange) in complete disregard of your own well-being. Slowly, you start to realize the crippling truth; you're a pawn and you're expendable for the greater cause. The duress of killing and watching people get killed can get to you. If the conditions are continually savage, or you're fighting in places where you don't even understand why the enemy is the enemy, other things can break you down. You can be your own worst enemy. In Vietnam, one soldier who was interviewed said that of the nine men in his patrol who died, five of them were from overdoses. Of course, how dangerous the soldiering is depends on how close you are to the action and its intensity. For example, if you're a cook in an army training center, the risk of getting burnt from inadvisably picking up a hot potato doesn't compare with a medic who marches into fire as a noncombatant, to save the lives of the fallen. Elite units like Delta Force, the Navy Seals, and private mercenary units all get nods for extra risk. U.N. peacekeepers, operating under Byzantine rules, suffer the fate of being unable to defend themselves, despite being shot at. Ditto the medics. They're   
not looking to kill, just to save lives. But to the other side, they're still the enemy." She paused, tapping the back of her pen against the pad as she watched Lydia from across her, studying her body language and continuing when she saw her realize where she was going with this particular train of thought. "So do you understand what I meant by him being a lot more fragile than you thought? He is fit and strong and firm but that was before he remembered his past. Now everything changes and he has to rebuild himself. Are you sure you can handle that? Even wives are known to be unable to stand this phase so no one would blame you if you-"

"I'm not leaving him if that's what you're asking. And no, this has nothing to do with pity or obligations. I love him and he's a part of me in a way that's hard to explain. And no, I'm not pregnant or any of the reasons people have to stay with others. I'm staying with him because I want to and I know if the situation was reversed, he wouldn't budge. I'm a lot tougher than you think."

"Well if you have decided, then all I have to say is good luck. You'll need it and a lot of prayers. Of course that all depends on how strong, mentally, deputy Parrish is." The psychologist finished with a gentle smile, standing up and offering her hand for a shake.

Lydia smiled back at the woman, taking the offered hand and saying her goodbyes before stepping out of the office and to the parking lot. 

Like it or not, she had made a decision. And she intended to see it through.


	5. A better understanding. Or not. [1st - 14th May, 2013]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the pack gambles a little.

Chapter 5 - A Better Understanding. -Or not-. [1st - 14th May, 2013]

"You do know that you have to take the SATs right?" Scott asked from his spot on the couch, feet propped up on the table before him as he munched on microwaved pastries.

Stiles had come over a few hours prior after school to hang out with them. Scott was free for the day because Deaton had taken a job that apparently had him doing all of Scott's chores before leaving the clinic.

"I took the CAHSEE in my sophomore year and passed. I thought that was all that mattered but still, come on, I also took the ACTs a while back when I was in France as an aspiring international student sort of thing although I'm American, but i'm guessing that doesn't really count.?" Isaac replied in a form of a question.

"I think it does." Stiles muttered easily. "I don't think they have the same level of accreditation as the SATs though. You can see them as the bastard son in the college aptitude test family. GRE and SATs are solid but 'ACTs can be accepted too'." Stiles' tone made his point very clear.

Scott looked over at his boyfriend who sat with his legs slung over one of the arms of the couch he was sitting in. "So what are you going to do? I mean, if you want to write the SATs, i'll help you study for it."

"I doubt there'll be as much studying as there'll be groping." Isaac replied easily, sprawled out on his back on the floor as his legs were lifted up and spread out on either side of Scott's hips on the couch.

"I'll do it if you don't trust Scott to keep it in his pants for longer than one hour every day." Stiles chipped in, munching on something aggressively and Isaac almost pitied whatever that cursed piece of food is.

"Hey if anyone can't keep it in their pants, it's Isaac. I am the epitome of control. If control had a face, i'm sure it'll be mine." Scott had not missed the taunt in Stiles' words and as always, proving once again how idiotic he was, he had fallen for it. The laughter from the others didn't help at all as he dug into the bowl of chips, picked up a handful and hauled it at his best friend who only cackled and picked the chips up from the carpet and into his mouth, humming in a way that was intended to be annoying.

"No seriously-" Scott muttered when the laughter died down a bit.

"I'll think about it, really. Now we need to get our final studies in check and write the final exams. It's only a few days to graduation. 13th is right around the corner." Isaac cut in before Scott could get into a worried rant.

"And college... College is right around the bend. Man, I can't wait to start getting pointlessly drunk!" Stiles axclaimed, causing the other boys to scoff and roll their eyes in unison.

"Dude you *already* get pointlessly drunk. Besides, how much fun can you have with Derek and Peter as your lovers?" Scott mumbled.

"Oh we have our fun." Stiles drawled, a smirk pulling at the corners of his lips as he nodded, enjoying the look that flashed across Scott's face.

"That is TMI. I thought we spoke about this." The alpha chipped in, hauling another batch of chips at his best friend and needless to say, it was a foodfight afterwards.

Everyone seemed happy about the end results. 

Everyone except, that is, Melissa McCall. "BOYS?!"

\-----

He has been thinking about it for a while now. He figured anyone with the amount of money he had would be. The excess money from the dead pool a year and a half ago had been found thanks to Meredith and with Scott still on the list as well as 30+ others, his money hadn't necessarily vanished. Just dwindled appreciatively. Of course it had not been given to him until Derek had been certain that he could be trusted -just a little bit- to not do something as stupid and perhaps trusted that he was selfish enough to not use all of his money for something as stupid as that.

Back then, both opinions would have been true but now, considering how he felt about Stiles, and Derek, and how *they* felt about Scott, he wouldn't hurt the alpha if his life depended on it and if he was to go on a limb, he'd say that he was very much fond of the alpha and his mate himself.

Investment.

That was the plan. Gamble. Bet against the odds. He could do that. All or nothing with the cards decked againt him and no, Peter Hale has never been a gambler. He was a lover and a sarcastic, evil shit but he preferred the certainty to the taking a leap of faith angle. It was almost summer and after months of thinking about it, ever since he had "helped" Derek with dealing with his investment files, -admittedly, it had been a totally different type of helping then-.

It had taken a while and a lot of discussing with Derek. Just Derek because he didn't want to bother Stiles with all this talk about money and investments when he had his final exams to think about. He needed a fresh place. A place that held promise for profits and his inner and till that moment, hidden gambler wanted to up the stakes. The greater the risk, the greater and more satisfying the reward is.

Yes, Derek had chosen a more trustworthy place, closer to home and only a few hour's drive away and no, he wasn't an idiot so he wasn't going to put all his eggs in one basket which was why he had left a few million dollars back in the bank for if ever the Hale diner, which was almost done, needed more money and maybe some more for other home-based investments but he had always been an over-achiever and yes, Peter Hale sat in a plane heading to a place he'd never thought of visiting till he had thought of investing.

Africa.

It had been a pretty easy decision. He was to take the chance to explore the continent, take a break from all the Beacon Hills drama, soak in some nature and have a breath of fresh air like he hadn't had on the streets of California in a long time. He had bought and ordered brochures and at the end of the day, after reading them cover to cover, he was certain there was no place he would rather invest.

 

He did tell Stiles a few days prior so as to avoid excessive emotions. No, Stiles wasn't the type to be excessively pouty. At least not seriously, but he still thought it would sting a bit knowing that he wouldn't be around for a while. Word got around after that. No one knew his real intentions except those who needed to. Namely, Derek, Stiles, Cora and Scott and knowing the alpha, chances are Isaac knew but that didn't matter.

To the rest of the pack, his insolent daughter included, he was just taking a break from all the disaster.

His first stop . . . Ghana. A small country he hadn't known much about before he closed his eyes and pointed blindly on that sheet. From what he read, it wasn't a bad place to be. Friendly people and peaceful country with political stability. . . He would have asked for nothing more.

 

Pulling out the guide book on Africa he had bought at the airport as he settled into his seat, he flipped it to the page he was most interested in and started reading;

[[Accra is the capital and largest city of Ghana, with an estimated urban population of 2.27 million as of 2012. It is also the capital of the Greater Accra Region and of the Accra Metropolitan District, with which it is coterminous. Accra is furthermore the anchor of a larger metropolitan area, the Greater Accra Metropolitan Area (GAMA), which is inhabited by about 4 million people, making it the second largest metropolitan conglomeration in Ghana by population, and the eleventh-largest metropolitan area in Africa. 

Accra stretches along the Ghanaian Atlantic coast and extends north into Ghana's interior. Originally built around a  
port, it served as the capital of the British Gold Coast between 1877 and 1957. Once merely a 19th-century suburb of Victoriaborg, Accra has since transitioned into a modern metropolis; the city's architecture reflects this history,   
ranging from 19th-century architecture buildings to modern skyscrapers and apartment blocks. 

Accra serves as the Greater Accra region's economic and administrative hub. It is furthermore a centre of a wide range of nightclubs, restaurants and hotels. Since the early 1990s, a number of new buildings have been built, including the multi-storey French-owned Novotel hotel. The city's National Theatre was built with Chinese assistance. In 2010, the GaWC designated Accra a Gamma-minus-level world city, indicating a growing level of international influence and connectedness. 

The central business district of Accra contains the city's main banks and department stores, and an area known as the Ministries, where Ghana's government administration is concentrated. Economic activities in Accra include the financial and agricultural sectors, Atlantic fishing, and the manufacture of processed food, lumber, plywood, textiles, clothing and chemicals.]] 

He nodded slowly as he read, getting a picture he quite liked. Business was the main reason he was on this trip and he was starting to like the prospects already. It took just that little break before he went back to his brochure.

[[ The modern city is centred on the original British, Danish and Dutch forts and their surrounding communities: Jamestown near the British James Fort , Osu near the Danish fort of Christiansborg (now Osu Castle), and Ussherstown near the Dutch Ussher fort. Tourist attractions include the National Museum of Ghana,   
the Ghana Academy of Arts and Sciences, the National Archives of Ghana and Ghana's central library, the National   
Theatre, the Accra Centre for National Culture, the Jamestown lighthouse, and the Ohene Djan Stadium. The city is also a transportation hub, home to the Kotoka International Airport and railway links to Tema, Sekondi- Takoradi and Kumasi. Accra has furthermore become a location for national and international business conferences, such as the BarCamp Ghana series, organised by GhanaThink Foundation ]]

Ohe this felt too good to be true and a part of him just kept reading, thinking there was a carch somewhere. 

[[ Central Accra is compact, centered on the historical British, Danish, and Dutch forts. Over the years, however, with   
immigration from rural areas, the city has expanded with no regard to zoning, giving it a sprawled attribute. The city of Accra has a total area of 200 square kilometres (77 sq mi), and is the anchor city of the Greater Accra Metropolitan Area (GAMA). ]]

"Alright.." He muttered absentmindedly to himself.

[[ Owing to its location in the Dahomey Gap, where the coast runs parallel to the prevailing moist monsoonal winds, Accra   
features a tropical savanna climate that borders on a semi- arid climate. The average annual rainfall is about 730 mm, which falls primarily during Ghana's two rainy seasons. The chief rainy season begins in April and ends in mid-July,  
whilst a weaker second rainy season occurs in October. Rain usually falls in short intensive storms and causes local   
flooding in which drainage channels are obstructed. There is very little variation in temperature throughout the year. The mean monthly temperature ranges from 24.7 °C (76.5 °F) in August (the coolest) to 28 °C (82.4 °F) in March (the hottest), with an annual average of 26.8 °C (80.2 °F). It  
should be noted, however, that the "cooler" months tend to be more humid than the warmer months. As a result, during the warmer months and particularly during the windy harmattan season, the city experiences a breezy "dry heat" that feels less warm than the "cooler" but more humid rainy  
season. As a coastal city, Accra is vulnerable to the impacts of climate  
change and sea level rise, with population growth putting increasing pressure on the coastal areas. Drainage infrastructure is particularly at risk, which has profound  
implications for people’s livelihoods, especially in informal settlements. As Accra is close to the equator, the daylight hours are practically uniform during the year. Relative humidity is generally high, varying from 65% in the mid-afternoon to  
95% at night. The predominant wind direction in Accra is from the WSW to NNE sectors. Wind speeds normally range  
between 8 to 16 km/h. High wind gusts occur with thunderstorms, which generally pass in squall along the coast. The maximum wind speed record in Accra is 107.4 km/h (58 knots). Strong winds associated with thunderstorm activity   
often cause damage to property by removing roofing material. Several areas of Accra experience micro-climatic  
effects. Low-profile drainage basins with a north-south orientation are not as well ventilated as those orientated east-west. Air is often trapped in pockets over the city, and an insulation effect can give rise to a local increase in air temperature of several degrees. This occurs most notably inthe Accra Newtown sports complex areas.]]

"It's like walking into summer ahead of time. Man this is going to give me a whiplash when I get back home and realize it's not yet summer." Peter muttered, his excitement not having dimmed an inch. If anything, it's gotten to the point that he was getting tired of reading the article and just wanted to get to the place already.

[[ The decline in agriculture in rural communities in Ghana and rising industrialisation in urban regions, coupled with the late-1980s boom in the service sector, once again propelled immigration to Accra. The primacy of the Accra Metropolitan Area as the Greater Accra region's administrative, educational, industrial and commercial centre continues to be the major force for its  
population growth, with immigration contributing to over 35% of the Accra's population growth. Parts of inner-city Accra comprise a mixture of very low-  
density development with under-utilised service infrastructure on the one hand, high-density development and overstretched infrastructure services on the other. The growth of Accra has led to the neglect of some of the old settlements, whilst efforts are being made to provide the newly developing suburban areas with services and infrastructure to cater for the needs of the middle-income earners. Peripheral residential development in Accra barely has sufficient infrastructure to support it. There are also large numbers of uncompleted houses, interspersed with   
pockets of undeveloped land, which are often subject of litigation, due to the inability of organisations and individuals who own them to complete or develop them due to lack of funds.]]

Oh he was interested in that. Building and housing. Perhaps he has finally found the place where his interests lie and he flipped over to the next page, skimming through with his finger tip to search for the next subtitle that had to do with building and housing.

[[ In 2008, the World Bank estimated that Accra's economy only constituted around US$3 billion of Ghana's total gross domestic product (GDP). The economically active population of Accra is estimated to be 823,327. Accra is a centre for manufacturing, marketing, finance,   
insurance, and transportation. Its financial sector incorporates a central bank, nine commercial banks (with 81 branches), four development banks (with 19 branches), four merchant banks (with seven branches), three discount houses, one home finance mortgage bank, multiple building societies, Ghana Stock Exchange (GSE), foreign exchange bureauxs, finance houses, insurance companies, insurance  
brokerage firms, two savings and loans companies, and numerous real estate developers, with industrial sites and residential developments. The road network in the Accra Metropolitan Area totals 1,117 kilometres (694 mi) in  
length. There are over 50,506 identified residential properties in Accra, and about 4,054 commercial/industrial/mixed properties, with a total rateable value of GH¢13,849,014. There are also supermarkets, 36 facilities for both on–street and off-street parking, and shopping malls, as well as several facilities for sports and recreation.]]

"Uh-uh. . . Sports, entertainment, housing and a little bit of tourism unless of course you're into the whole large industries scene. . . Primary sector. . . Fishing . . . Farming. . . Basically agriculture of all kinds. . . Hah!" He muttered to himself, sighing contentedly as he pulled himself up from his hunched position, stretching as discreetly as he could to work out the kinks in his shoulder and a gaze out the window had his face brightening up.

Oh yes he was in Africa. Maybe not Ghana, but definitely Africa. The landscape, even from several feet above, does not lie.

\---------- SOURCE: Wikipedia the free encyclopedia.

Stopping in Accra is one of his favorite things to do, he noted the moment he was out of the Kotoka International Airport. Landing in a country where immigration says “Welcome Home” is always  
endearing. Seeing the booming economy can definitely make you want to call the place home. Economic growth of 14.5 percent in 2011 makes 2012’s 7.9 percent seem a disappointment. The International Monetary Fund (IMF) forecasts 7.8 percent for 2013. Ghana’s oil boom has proven to be a great additive to one Africa’s most active small and medium enterprise (SME)  
economies. Its reputation as one of the continent’s most stable democracies almost seems like an added bonus. For  
these reasons, Ghana has become increasingly attractive to foreign investors. 

Peter was just one more person who has fallen in love. Deeply.

\-----

Peter-(00:18): --get on skype.--  
Peter-(00:18): -- NOW!--  
The messages came in quick sussession and with a lazy grunt, Derek rolled out of bed and pulled his laptop to himself, going immediatelt to Skype.

He had missed him, of course, but he also missed sleep and he realized, soon enough, that it had skipped the other man's notice that there was a time difference of between 4 and 5 hours. After that was settled and the apology rendered, you'd think Peter would let him go back to sleep but noooOOO...

"I seriously thought I was going to get into housing but after being here for just two days, I'm so confused. There's just so much avenues that beg for investment. Check this out, apparently, earlier this year the mobile penetration rate in Ghana  
surpassed 100 percent and no, is doesn't necessarily mean that every Ghanaian has a mobile phone. Accounting for multiple  
sim cards or ownership of multiple mobile phones, telecom insiders estimate that mobile phone ownership is just  
approaching 16 million. Opportunity for growing the voice market is hard to ignore. But tower managers and telecom  
investors alike will see the greatest growth in data services. A booming oil and gas sector is pushing for better all-  
around service to support their growth while telecom companies continue to build infrastructure in order to improve quality and stability. Installations should also increase network capacity in order to cope with upcoming traffic increases. The introduction of more competitive service bundles and specialized data products can definitely add to profit margins. What does that say? Yes, telecommunications is a top choice. It's a fucking gold mine!

Also, the Banking Act in 2007 laid the foundation for change in the financial services industry. Since its passage, financial services in Ghana have improved tremendously. A thriving economy and growing incomes usually underline the  
potential of the financial sector. But Ghana has shown more promise than other countries in the region. Take Cameroon for example. It has a similar level of income, yet Ghana has more than double the number of ATMs per head of the adult  
population. Benin, also with a similar level of income, only has one-third of the banks per head of adult population compared to Ghana. Services in the country have improved. The recent integration of banking ATMs among nine banks in the  
country, including Standard Chartered Bank, Zenith Bank an Ecobank, allows customers to use their bank cards at ATMs  
serviced by banks different than the card provider. Barclays created a buzz earlier this year with the announcement of deposit-taking ATMs in Ghana. The service will help to reduce the extremely long queues in banks. But these efforts are  
not enough. Big ideas and little capital is the story of most Ghanaian banks. They are simply unable to meet the increasing  
demand from the energy, mining, oil & gas, and telecommunications sectors. Corporate banking and financing  
units are understaffed and inefficiently utilized. International trade thrives without adequate trade financing. Bank managers know this and are trying to  
rapidly improve the quality of service. But, as the story normally goes, capital investment is needed to maintain  
growth and meet the ever-increasing needs of consumers. Finances industry is a yes too.

And yes, the story of rising real estate prices in thriving oil & gas markets gets old. But the returns never stop coming. The office and commercial sectors are plagued by poor management and lack of capacity. Downtown Accra and neighboring suburbs are seeing a surge in construction as developers see a growing influx of cash from foreign investors. Improvements in consumer financing and mortgages in the banking sector will also add to the opportunity for residential and commercial real estate. Ghana is an industrial darling on the continent. It is more advanced than many other African countries. But it still nowhere near its full potential. Pipeline manufacturing for the oil & gas sector fails to meet the demand in timely fashion with quality. Apparently, all workers have to do is complain and every time a complaint surfaces, it encounters a group of anxious entrepreneurs waiting to solve it (a luxury of Ghana’s entrepreneurial makeup). Imports of agro-chemicals and related agriculture products will slow over time as new companies work to manufacture agricultural inputs locally. Ghana has great potential as a manufacturing country, possibly even electric cars. The growth potential of gas liquefaction continues to be the talk of the town as the queues at gas stations increase. Whatever the product, there is someone in Ghana at this moment discussing how to make it locally. The potential of the overall industrial sector in Ghana is unimaginable. But it can  
only be reached with more capital. Services It is the catchall category, but Ghana is still in need of services across the board. The country requires manageme  
level education facilities (i.e., nursing, finance, etc) to meet the growing need in the country’s private sector. Medical  
services fail to provide high quality care, leaving foreigners and some locals to travel outside the country for specialize medical care. Information and communications technology  
(ICT) services are inadequate to meet the growing various needs of private sector businesses from SME to oil & gas. A lack of investment in the above sectors has the potential to stymie Ghana’s economic growth. Great returns are available, especially if investors can connect investments to Ghana’s energy and mining boom. Everything here is like fresh and untouched and yes, really really seductive. And... And also there's a-"

"Whoa whoa, Peter. Calm down." Derek cut into the older man's rant, his voice and facial expression nothing but amused, and calmer now that he realized he wasn't going to get back to sleep anytime soon and has given up the idea. Silently, he was impressed at how much passion the other had for investment when just a year ago, he had no care for the world of money. "You might want to swallow some of that for a while. Aren't you getting too involved? You could take a step back and look at the bigger picture, find time that is more than two days and try not to make any emotional decisions. Didn't you say you were a gambler on this trip? You know they don't go with how good they feel but what their gut tells them would be best."

"Yeah you're right." Peter conceded easily, running his fingers through his hair and pushing it all back.

"You're looking good. The skin looks brighter like you got yourself a tan." Derek commented lightly with a chuckle.

"Yeah it's scortching hot here. Oh you should see it. Wait, do you wanna see my full body tan?" Peter asked, wriggling his brows.

"Don't be an idiot." Oh yes he was tempted but like hell if he was going to give Peter the satisfaction.

"How's Stiles? And the exams?" The man asked instead.

"He whined a lot today.. Yes, about why you haven't called and what if something happened and it was annoying. . . To some of them so Isaac did what he usually does till he forgot. For a bit."

"He didn't kiss-" Peter didn't finish the question.

"With me here? Are you kidding? He still owes me a life for the last time he did it." Derek replied, both men chuckling and easing into easy and careless banter till they had to say goodbye..

 

They had gotten to speak the next day. The three of them. This conversation was lighter as neither men wanted to bother Stiles with talk about money and investments. It was a long and easy conversation that cut short Stiles' whining for a bit.

Two days afterwards, after just a few text messages across because long distance texting is as expensive as fuck, Stiles was right back to missing Peter. It was odd, really. At least to him. When Derek went out of town, he didn't fuss that much. Perhaps it was because the other went out of Beacon Hills once almost every month and he usually stayed in the US but the first time Peter leaves, he takes a cross-continent flight to Africa.

He sighed, looking through the fridge in the loft. The pack had come to hang out at the loft to watch a game on Derek's flat screen. He and Scott had had an early start with Walter, getting masochist kicks out of kicking him around while he got them too from being able to kick them right back.

It had taken a lot of cajoling to get Jordan to drop everything and come with her to the pack hangout. He just wanted to sleep and she understood him. The flashbacks had stopped and he had forced himself to get back to work but she knew he was still disturbed about the things he found out in that little hunt down memory lane. He still had things to decide and she was ready to support him but a few hours of silly banter wouldn't hurt him or add stress to his lifr. Hopefully, it'll ease some of the tension.

"You know we could watch porn. They usually use those ones as like before and after." Isaac muttered lazily from his place on the floor, causing everyone to grown and Cora, who was closer, to kick him in the ribs.

"Will you stop being a little shit?" Her words held no sting and Scott stopped in the doorway.

"I dunno. I smell a lot like sweat." He muttered conscious after that workout and contemplating a shower in Isaac's old room in the loft. 

"Oh I love sweat." Isaac says in a way that had everyone groaning again.

"Can you try not to make everything sexual?" Walter asked as he came up behind Scott, playfully glaring at Isaac.

"I can promise to try... But I don't think it's that bad."

"Oh really?" The vampire asked, grabbing a can of soda from the coffee table closest to him and walking fully into the room, moaning. "Mm... Man, I bet I could lick these beads off in on loong swipe." When he finished, everyone's brows were quirked and they wore identical humorous looks. "What? I was just impersonating Isaac."

"Right." Scott chuckled, stepping into the room. He picked up Lydia's feet from where they were propped up on the other end of the couch, sat down and placed them into his lap.

"You're gay." Lydia deadpanned.

"No I'm not!" Walter replied instantly.

"Of course you are." Mason chipped in. "Gaydar. We recognize the gay ones."

"Guys... seriously, I'm not. I haven't been with anyone."

"And *that*, my friend, is the reason why you don't tell lies in a room full of werewolves and other intuitive creatures." Parrish chuckled. He was yet to talk to the boy alone but after the past few weeks, he was okay with having him around and so was the pack as was the essense of this meeting. The humans were here and he looks in control.

"Remind me why Vampires hate werewolves again?" The boy muttered and took a drink from the sinful soda can."

"I hear a witch cursed them." Kira chipped in. She had been speaking hush-hush with Malia the whole time, both of them seemingly in serious conversation.

"I never asked. I was just told. 'Weird things are gonna start happening to you, baby girl. They'll hurt at first but you'll be fine. Why?' and then of course, little me happily exclaimed; 'Cause I'm a Hale!' a lot of good that did me." Cora scoffed. "It hurt like a bitch is what it did."

"Peter called me again last night." Derek utters from behind him and Stiles wheeled around to turn to him.

"Yeah? What did he say?"

"That he has found himself a girlfriend... Sent me photos of them together... Her name is Naa. Yeah, Naa Adjorkor. She can cook, is kind... Oh he added a lot of praises."

"You're kidding." Stiles says simply, trying not to panic.

"Of course I'm not." Derek replied, oblivious, as he poured himself a glass of water. "You can check my phone. The evidence is still there."

"And it doesn't bother you?"

He turned around then when he heard the worry in Stiles' voice. "No, it doesn't. Does it bother you?"

"Maybe? I mean. . . If you love someone, it's supposed to bother you when ther say stuff like that."

"I do love Peter. Really, a lot. And that is why even oceans away, I knew he was just kidding. My bet, he met her while touring, liked her, hang out and even became friends. He's not met his soulmate. He just wanted to get a rise out of me, being the little shit he is."

"You think so?"

"Absolutely. Where else will he go? You and I. . . He'll be a fool to give us up."

In the main hall, Malia scoffed, unable to pretend she wasn't hearing that.

And the proverbial shit *really* hit the fan.

 

"Excuse me, do you have a problem?" Cora really couldn't stand her insolence any longer.

Malia knew when something was addressed to her and knew when she was to ignore it but this time, she realized from the she wolf's tone that ignoring her would lead to a whole sticky situation she could avoid. "Do you?" She asked simply.

"Don't be snotty with me." Apparently, Cora didn't appreciate her tone.

"How can you be okay with this?" Way to go. Her keep your cool attitude just went right out the window in that instant. "This is family! Blood. My blood and yours and they're together and you smile as if it's perfect." She ranted.

Cora got to her feet, her look fierce and determined and angry enough that everyone worried for the outcome of this altercation. "It's called maturity. You learn to cope with change as it happens."

"Change? You mean the incest? A couple of months ago, you detested it and now you're smiling like a proud mother." Malia's tone had turned nasty and Cora was really tethering on the urge of lunging across the small space at her.  
"Aren't you going to stop this before it gets out of hand?" Lydia whispered to Scott. The alpha's fingers were playing with her toes as her back rested on Jordan's chest at the other end of the couch.

"Oh no this isn't so bad. Both of them are right in their own way and it'll be therapeutic to get it all out there." His voice and tone interpretted that as "Oh don't be a killjoy. This will be a terrific show!"

"I'm not thrilled about it. I'm not wearing a tutu and shaking tambourines to thank the incest gods of ancient times but I realize the importance of family and the feeling of happiness that washes over a person when a family member is even a fraction of happy." Cora cut in, heholding her hand up frigidly when Malia opened her mouth to speak. "Uh-uh. I understand that after what happened to your family, you may have different feelings where losing family is concerned but I'll tell you what losing your family feels like. It feels like being dumped in the middle of an ocean on a weak raft made of bamboo with no water and food especially at a young age. That I spent the last few years of my life bouncing from foster home to foster home because I knew what I was but they didn't. You were lucky to recede into your animal form but the rest of us who lived on two legs, felt every human pulse of pain and anger and loss, we'll do anything for just a semblance of family. Anything because when I heard that a Hale had survived, I made a journey accross continents just to be with that Hale so yes, if I had found him to be a murdering psychopath, I would have stuck with him to the very end and to us, the Hales who felt that great pain, we'll go to extremes for each other. I didn't like it. I still don't like it but I don't scoff everytime it comes up."

"Peter is my father!" Malia was outraged as she jumped onto her feet to face her older cousin, ready to tell her about all the levels of wrong that relationship was and how utterly disturbing and embarrassing it was to her person but she was preoccupied. She didn't appreciate being reminded that she killed her own family. No, not at all. It was a low blow and she hated Cora for pulling up a memory like that and using it to tell her the difference between the two of them. That she was a murderer who was spitting on incest like it was the worst crime in the world and that, that did not sit well with her at all.

"Is it the fact that he's with Derek that bothers you? Or the fact that he's with Stiles? Does it bother you so much that your father is the person who makes him happy? Did you not cheat on him? Self centered as always! You don't acknowledge Peter as your father until you need something to be your way and if you don't have the sense to shut up and school your emotions, then get out! Out! Now! This is Derek's loft and he can do and talk as he pleases in here so if you can't keep your nastiness hidden, then get out and stay out! Get out of here before I lose it and beat the shit out of you!" And this time she shoved, hard. Cora was furious. No she wasn't thrilled about the threesome relationship but she was pissed at Malia's constant self righteousness.

The coyote snarled, her eyes glowing blue just as Cora's flashed gold, her posture one of cool resolve even though her claws started to extend and her hair started to grow into a fierce and bushy texture.

"Ookay that's it." Scott jumped up from his seat to step between the two girls, basically shoving Malia out of the way and towards the door.

"Well that was unexpectedly sexy." Liam muttered much to his own horror and the rest of the room and backed away, heading straight for the kitchen. Nothing like a bowl of ice cream to burry your embarrassment in.

Cora was flabberghasted. "Did anyone else find that as disturbing as I did?"

"I think he likes you." Mason, the worst friend on planet earth and beyond, supplied, causing everyone's interest to be picquéd.

"Oh yeah. Sexy? Pfft. Liam doen't say the word sexy. Like ever. Since I knew him. Hot? Oh yeah. . ." He nodded with a slow smirk worthy of Joey Tribbiani from the 90s sitcom, Friends. "I mean. . .-" but he didn't have the chance to further embarrass his best friend as the werewolf charged across the room at him and as though he had been expecting it, Mason indulged the elusive journey.

"Man, I've missed seeing that." Derek muttered lazily from the doorway of the kitchen, reaching down to pick up the barely touched bowl of icecream Liam had dropped in order to chase Mason. "Anybody want this?"

"Yeah." Everyone replied and Derek's brows furrowed. 

"You know what. . ." He mutters as he stepped back into the kitchen and out empty-handed. "Why don't I leave it right there and everyone can go for it if they really need it?" His smile was condescending.

"Hey the match is about to start!" Jordan called out, getting their attention.

"Okay place your bets. I bet $20 that Barcelona wins by 6 goals to 1." Isaac mutters, pulling out a 20 and putting it on display on the table.

"Isn't that a little farfetched?" Lydia replied, squinting as if to make a decision.

"What, you think we can't do it? With the team we have, Neymar. . . Messi. . . Andrés Iniesta. . . Hernandez. . . It doesn't get any better. We'll win."

"I don't doubt that. But by 6?" Jordan asked. "I'll say $10 that Barcelona wins 2 to 1. Atletico Madrid is not a useless team."

"Oh ye of little faith." Isaac muttered. "Any opposition?"

Scott came back from outside with a shrug. "Yeah why not? 50 says Atletico wins by 1 to nil."

"Be prepared to lose. There can't be a game where Messi or Neymar doesn't score."

"Yeah but my chances are higher than yours. 6-1. Such a crock!" The alpha laughed, plopping back onto the couch.

"Oooh arguments and rivalry!" Stiles muttered excitedly as he took a seat on the floor, bowl of popcorn and soda in his arms. The arguments were the best part of watching soccer. And the bets. Which ultimately meant the sulking of the sour losers and the secret managers and coaches pointing out the flaws in their team's setup. Oh this was so worth it.

Silently, Kira slinked out of the loft. She was drained and emotionally tired of everything. Especially Malia.

Scott saw her go and sighed, but Isaac's arm squeezing his knee gently pulled him back to the game.

Their final exams were on monday. Anything to help release stress, they would welcome it.


	6. Too much preparation and stressful moments. [15th - 31st May 2013.]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one with all the stress.

Chapter 6 - Too much preparations and stressful moments. [15th - 31st May, 2013]

Lazily, she rolled onto her side. The calendar on the bedside table said it was the 15th of May. Last thing Lydia Martin remembered was coming home exhausted from writing her final paper of High School and the insane jubilation that had followed afterwards.

It had been loud and wild and she hadn't had the energy to throw a party but that little impromptu celebratory get-together the pack had thrown had more that made up for that. When she tumbled into bed two nights ago, she knew it was going to be a very LONG sleep. She rolled onto her back then, sprawled out amidst the sheets which were tangled around her slender legs.

She had vague memories of using the bathroom, shuffling to the kitchen for a glass of juice and . . . Well, basically that was it. She hadn't done much the previous day and she has absolutely no regrets about that. Hell, she earned it.

There was a jar of strawberry juice on the table which she interpreted as her mom's way of saying; "eat this, or I'm going to think you're sick and call the doctor." and with an indulgent smile, she sat up in bed. Her bones creaked like the floorboards of a century old wood house owned by an equally frail old woman as she propped up on the pillows. She always fell asleep on her phone so she instantly went to patting the sheets in search for the device.

When she found it, it was at a 43% battery power and had several messages and calls, most of which were from Jordan. With a smile, she run her fingers through her messy locks and tried to not pay attention to the fact that according to her time, it was almost 5pm as she read the messages. Each message showed more concern than the last. Well, except the last one because she assumed by then, he had spoken to her mom and she had assured him that she was fine.

She waited, the phone held to her ear with one hand while the other held the glass of juice to her lips. Two rings later and she heard the unmistakeable voice of her man on the other end of the line.

"Lydia..." It wasn't a question... Or a statement. It was like a whisper of love. Or perhaps it was just her sleepy and tired mind adding cave effects to Parrish's voice.

"I just woke up and saw your missed calls and messages. Sorry I worried you." She whispered, her voice still gruff for not having spoken in at least 36 hours.

"No that's okay. I'd sleep too if I were you." There was a brief pause on the line where Parrish reinstated to himself why he hated phone calls while Lydia hummed at the refreshing taste of the juice although it was obviously squeezed hours ago. "You're feeling rested now?"

"Oh yeah I am. Maybe *too* rested because I think if I try to get up from bed, I may crumble into a heap of jelly." She muttered, gurgling the juice in her mouth before swallowing.

"Oh well, that's too bad." Parrish muttered from the other end.

Something in his voice and tone had Lydia setting the half empty glass on her thigh. "Why's that?" She asked, genuinely curious.

"Because I was going to ask you to have dinner with me. Nothing fancy. Just pizza and maybe we can stay up real late."

"Mmm on a school night?" She liked the idea. It was going to take a little getting used to for Jordan to ask her out on weekdays because he had tended to be a little too critical about that. "My, Jordan... If I didn't know better, I'd think you were trying to help me celebrate the end of my high school career."

He chuckled from the other end, the sound causing an instant smile on her features. "Then I guess it's a real good thing that you know better. So what do you say? I'll close from work at 21:30."

"Just pick me up at home whenever you're ready okay? I'll be waiting."

"And I'm already counting the minutes. See you soon." He hang up then, Lydia unable to say much afterwards. Parrish didn't really get sappy. He usually teased her, innuendoes and the like, but never the sap and as little as that had been, it had been one. 

So maybe her heart was pounding in her chest and she could taste her pulse but a part of her kept asking her what the big deal was, and the truth is, she had no answer to that one.

 

 

"Why weren't you picking my calls?" Malia asked from the doorway of Kira's bedroom, not bothering to enter the room this time. They hadn't had a civilized conversation in the longest time and a part of her yearned for her girlfriend while the other part was just plain irritated by the obvious cold shoulder she was being treated to. It has been four whole days since they wrote their last paper, after all.

"I wanted to be alone." Kira replied simply. A sketchbook lay open on her bed, filled with clothing designs that Malia knew she had made and although she wasn't much into clothes and dresses, she wanted to have a glimpse through that because admittedly, Kira really was good at drawing extremely beautiful dresses and judging from the colour pancils and HB pencils strewn across the bed, she was certain there have been some new additions.

Shuffling, she leaned against the door post, arms folded across her chest as she stared at her girlfriend who just lay on the bed. She was yet to look up at her. It was never the case. Usually, she'd be up and in her arms before she was through the door, an act which has more than once, landed them both in a heap on the floor. Of course if they were alone, they turned that heap into something really productive.

"Are you avoiding me?" She asked after a while when it seemed Kira had no intention of saying anything more.

The kitsune sat up then, pushing the sketch book aside and making a show of arranging the pencils into their containers. "Why would something as absurd cross your mind?" She muttered casually, still not looking at her.

"I don't know. . . Maybe because you haven't spared me a single glance since I walked in here? Like you don't want to see me. You're giving me the same cold shoulder you've been giving me since Scott and Isaac got together." Malia exclaimed and almost regretted it when Kira's head shot up and her eyes fixed on her, a burning fire in them that she has never seen. She had asked to be looked at, but not in that manner. Definitely not.

"There you go again. Scott and Isaac. Isaac and Scott. Stiles and your father. Your father and your cousin. Any more people you'd like to blame everything on?" Kira snapped, her face still looking calm. Too calm for comfort.

"I'm not blaming them. I'm just mentioning that-"

Kira started muttering wildly in Japanese before she seemed to snap out of her haze and fix her gaze once more on Malia. "That I'm jealous of Isaac because he's now with Scott? That I regret being with you? That I want Scott back? Yeah go on. . . Tell me. It's not like I've heard it a *million* times already from you. Kira is jealous. Malia is never jealous because her reason for being so angry at the fact that Stiles is dating is because it's her father and not just because she regrets having cheated on him with Kira." The japanese girl muttered, her cynicism very clear and the way she slipped into that third person -like she usually did- alarmed Malia like it always did.

"Kira, I'm not. . . You think I'm jealous. . . Wait, you think I regret. . .? Why would you even think that?!" The coyote couldn't understand that. Nothing about that made sense to her.

"I read about it online. Apparently, they call it projection. When you feel something and you don't really like it so you start pushing your emotions and thoughts on someone else, trying to make them feel bad. Look, I won't blame you if you regret the way things happened between us. Really. It's natural for you to regret when you cheat on-"

"Will you stop reminding me of what I did? As I recall clearly, you didn't find it so disturbing when you were taking my clothes off, giggling like a ticklish fish whose right spots were being paid attention to so stop throwing it into my face that I cheated on Stiles."

"Oh. Oh right. I guess this is the part of it that I have been waiting for. Kira seduced Malia, she tore off her clothes and debauched her even when she knew she was still with Stiles. Bad Kira. How despicable of her to-"

"Will you stop talking like that?" Malia chipped in, visibly frustrated.

"- Do something like this and continually tell Malia that she was the one who cheated?" She continued as if Malia hadn't said anything at all.

"I can't have a conversation with you. You're talking nonsense. For some reason, you feel like shit and you would like for me to feel that way too." Malia shook her head indignantly at Kira, who had managed to someone stand in the middle of all that. "You call me when you're feeling sane and can have a civilized conversation without your insane jealousy and insecurities clouding your brain and making you sprout nonsense." And then she was cutting through the house quickly in an attempt to get far away from the place as possible.

"Yeah I doubt that!" Kira called out, her voice shaky. Her whole body was trembling as she slammed her bedroom door shut and slumped against it, sliding to the floor and staying there till she lost track of time. "Stupid . . . Stupid . . . Stupid . . ." She muttered every few minutes to herself, locked up in her own brain and her cheeks glistering from the tears she had no idea had escaped.

 

Scott hastened down the stairs at the sound of his doorbell. He had been at home lazying about and with a partner in crime like Isaac, it was more a "wear me out and cuddle me" operation. It was lovemaking sessions amidst cuddles and laughter or better yet, cuddles and laughter amidst lovemaking sessions.

Needless to say, he was possitively worn out and has been for the past week since they had written their final paper, yet when the doorbell rung and he caught a whiff of whom it was, he all but run down the stairs more out of habit than deliberately. He pulled the door open, a smile finding its way automatically onto his face. "Kira. What are you . . . I mean, come in." When she smiled back at him and nodded in acceptance to the invitation, he stepped aside and let her in, closing the door behind them.

"Are you alone?" She asked quietly, her nervousness coming at a surprise to him.

Taking a brief look upstairs at where he had left Isaac, naked in the sheets, he looked back at her and nodded slowly. "Yeah I am. Is there anything I can do for you?" Scott made a show of walking to the kitchen and setting a pot on the fire.

"Oh I uhh . . . I think you have my algebra book with you and I was packing . . . I mean, packing all the books I used in high school so I came for it."

He didn't need special wolf senses to know she was lying through her teeth. He knew her. More than she thought he did, and perhaps more than he should but he has always been a deep lover and noticing things was just one of the things that happened to come with it. "Still arguing with Malia?" He asked quietly, gently.

Kira contemplated saying no and she knew that even though he would know she was lying, he wouldn't call her up on it, yet for some reason, instead of denying it, she just sighed and pulled up a stool to the counter, sitting on it and bracing her elbows on it. "Maybe?"

"Maybe you should cut her some slack. You know she has a valid reason for being flipped out about the thing she's flipped out about." He muttered, somehow managing to sound soothing to her instead of judgemental and accusatory.

"I do understand that. I mean, if my dad got with you, I'd probably want to kill myself. Or him. Or as impossible as it feels right now, you." She sighed dramatically, reaching out to take the cup of steaming coffee which Scott slid across the table at her.

Scott cringed. Nothing about that mental image was pretty and he didn't think he could be blamed for being mortified by it. "Then why?" He managed to ask.

"It's just the way she goes about it. No one says she has to be okay with it. No one asks her to think and feel a certain way yet she expects it of everyone. She's manipulative and insecure and the worst thing is that she projects her thoughts and feelings onto others and tries to make them feel bad when she's the one who is supposed to feel bad." Exhasperated, she slammed the cup onto the counter-top but kept her fingers wrapped around the mug to keep them warm.

"Why do you say that?"

"I think the real reason she's not okay with all that after 6 months of knowing and 4 months of being sure, is because she's jealous of the fact that Stiles found someone . . . people, is more accurate but still. What i mean is, she's not really upset about Peter and Stiles, or Peter and Derek or Derek and Stiles and more about the fact that Stiles found someone -Anyone- to love and is now not hers."

Scott sighed, leaning on the kitchen island across from her, his bare abdomen pressed to the cold surface. "Does that bother you?" He asked quietly. He had just pulled on a pair of sweats when the doorbell had rung, and in his haste, he hadn't even realized they were bigger and made for someone a few inches taller.

When she looked up from her cup, her eyes met his, his easy smile coercing one out of her. "It doesn't. At least not so much as it bothers me that that's all we seem to talk about for the last few months. I mean, I haven't had a good laugh, or felt happy, in such a long time because she has gotten this stupid idea in her mind that *I'm* jealous. Jealous of the fact that you're with Isaac now." He didn't flinch. She really appreciated that.

Scott stared silently at her for a while before he reached across the island for her hands, taking them in his in a very familiar gesture. "Are you?"

It was a simple question. A terrible question but still a simple one and with anyone else she would be pissed but it was Scott and it had little to do with the fact that she was at one point in love with him, and more to do with the alpha's sense of conviction. "Am I jealous of what you and Isaac have?" She muttered softly as if repeating the question would help and perhaps it did. "I guess I am. But not because we were together once and I want you back. No. No offense. I just guess that even a fool sees the easy way you are with each other and everyone yearns for someone like that so I'm as jealous of Isaac for having you as I am jealous of you for having him." She smiled, thrilled that she could finally put a meaning to her feelings on the matter.

"And Malia. . . ?" Scott started to ask.

"Used to be that person for me. For a long time, she was. Nowadays, it's just arguments and foul emotions, headaches and tears and I guess I'm questioning that." She replied with a wan smile, her fingers squeezing back gently when his squeezed hers.

Scott pulled back from the island and slowly around it to pull her up into his arms, wrapping his muscled arms around her and sighing when her arms came up slowly around his shoulders to hug him right back. "You're a tough one. I know you'll figure something out. Something that makes you feel better." He whispered, palms rubbing slowly up and down her back and chin pressed atop her head.

Kira smiled, swaying slowly with Scott, just enjoying being held like that for a while before, as if in sync, both pulled away.

"So . . . Honestly, do you think your algebra book could be with me? Or was that a ploy to get me to talking?" He teased.

The kitsune let out a sultry laugh as she stepped out of his arms. "I seriously think so, but knowing you, it's probably somewhere you have no idea of, or with Stiles. Both of which can take time to find so call me when you find it, okay? I'll come for it."

"Or I'll bring it to you." He replied, following her as she made her way to the door.

"I'll see you around, Scott." She leaned in to press a kiss to his cheek then she was gone, zooming down the street in her car.

With a sigh, Scott shut the door and turned around, eyes skimming up the stairs to where he knew his room was, and knowing who was in there waiting for him.

Perhaps needing reassurance.

 

"I can explain that." Scott muttered from the doorway, biting into his bottom lip like he had been doing since he walked up and saw that Isaac was rolled up on his stomach and wasn't sprawled on his back like he had left him. It was the typical avoidance move and he felt panic rising in his throat.

"You don't have to." Isaac muttered, flipping around onto his back again and folding his arms behind his head on a pillow.

"No but I feel I owe you-" Scott started to say, his quick and shuffled steps into the room was almost comical and Isaac couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips.

"Nothing. Scott, come on, don't be ridiculous. Between you and I, there are no secrets and a lot of trust." He sat up fully when the alpha took a sit at the foot of the bed as if terrified of coming any closer. "Besides, I believe the expiry date of a relationship is how many secrets are between a couple. You and I . . . We don't have any secrets. Old or new. And when we remember any, we tell the other about it so the way I see it, you and I are gonna be stuck together for a very long time and I'd rather not spend much of that time demanding and expecting explanations for things you do when it's so much easier and better to trust you." He flashed his boyfriend a lopsided grin.

Scott's signature crooked smile crept up onto his face and barely restrained himself from closing the space between them and hugging Isaac. "I hugged her." He muttered instead.

"I know that." Isaac replied with a shrug. "I also know that for some reason, it made you happy to do it. And she was happy too but that's not what's important to me, Scott. What's important is the fact that you acted like you wanted to, even knowing I was up here."

"How's that helping?" Scott asked flabberghasted as he lifted a leg onto the bed, facing Isaac fully now.

"Because it symbolizes trust. Or something along those lines. I really don't know but the fact that you didn't hide away from me just means that you felt in your gut that you were doing the right thing and doing nothing wrong."

"I did. But sometimes the right decisions can hurt-"

"I'm a lot less fragile than you think, love. Much less fragile." And with a grin, he pulled Scott into his arms, the effort knocking him back and sending Scott sprawled on top of him. 

"Point taken." Scott muttered, sliding his arms silently around Isaac and remaining there. After a while of companionable silence though, he whispered. "I can't help being worried about her."

"I know." Isaac whispered back, rubbing Scott's back soothingly, much in the same manner the alpha had rubbed Kira's only a few minutes prior.

With a small and contented sigh, Scott rested his head on Isaac's chest. It wasn't the most comfortable of sleep positions but he was exhausted as hell and although it wasn't entirely comfy to be lying in that position, he kept his head down, eyes closed lightly as he focused on the movement of Isaac's palms on his back, roaming lazily, soothing and just . . . Present. His presence was enough for him and he must have known when he started to sleep because the taller boy started to hum in addition to the gentle carresses.

"I love you. Don't know what I'll do without you." He muttered against Isaac's skin, recalling with a smile what Kira had said about their relationship.

"Let's hope you never have to find out then." Isaac whispered again to the sleepy Scott before resuming his humming.

 

"I'm just so fed up of that. It seems to be all everyone's talking about." Stiles grumbled as he stepped out of the kitchen and sat down on Derek's back, a glass of milk in his hand. 

The werewolf had been lying on his belly in the longest couch in the room, hoping to catch some sleep as he felt really tired. He didn't even want to entertain thoughts of how in hell he got to be tired this early in the morning or how strange it was that he was. He had gone to sleep relatively early the previous night and had slept peacefully, only waking up sometime around midnight when Peter had slipped into bed with him then almost immediately going back to sleep yet here he was at 9am, sleepy as fuck while Peter went about typing on his laptop like he had had 10 hours of good sleep. He hated the man. "oomf" that had been unexpected the way Stiles had plopped down on his back like he was a couch but the initial discomfort wore off, and with it, all hope of falling asleep within the next hour. "And that's why I don't think we should also talk about it." Derek mumbled grumpily.

"Well, how can I not? I went to Scott's house yesterday and he and Isaac were on the subject. Apparently, Kira came to talk to Scott and they hugged and smooched and stuff." Stiles replied, taking a sip of his milk and almost choking on it when Derek suddenly jerked up.

"They did what?" He found it unbelievable and a glance at Peter said the same. The man had stopped typing and was just staring at Stiles.

"Well, they didn't smooch and kiss but they hugged. And then talked about when they were dating and love and arguments and basically, Malia." Stiles relaxed again when Derek's body stilled again.

"I am a very strong believer in karma." The hunky beta muttered after a while.

"I don't know. . ." Peter started to say, then stopped.

"She's your daughter, I get that. Apparently, she's my cousin but she has her head too high up her ass I can't help it." Derek muttered, knowing what Peter had been about to say.

"It's a good thing Kira has someone to talk to. She and Scott broke up on good terms." Peter mumbled.

"I think I know where this is going." Stiles chipped in, the glass of milk now on Derek's back as he stared at the other man from across the room.

"It's not going anywhere. I'm just saying I wish Malia had someone to talk to when she hits a roadblock." Peter defended calmly.

"She did." Derek replied, not as indulging as Peter. "And what did she do? She bit all their heads off. You can't blame them for staying out of her crap. Cora nearly beat her into a pulp a few days ago."

"She did what?" No, of course Peter hadn't known about that.

"Malia was being rude, as usual, about us. In spite of her recently unusual calmness, Cora snapped and shut her down. Then threw her out of the loft and told her it was my house and until she was ready to be mature, she should stay out of it. And a few other things." Derek recalled with an air of enjoyment.

"I didn't hear much of that because I was in the kitchen with Derek talking about your Ghanaian girlfriend." Stiles muttered when Peter turned his gaze to him.

With a sigh, the man closed his laptop and got up. This was just frustrating and he would love it if he didn't care as much as he did but alas, there he was, worrying like a father.

It really sucks.

 

Stiles lay in bed, his cell phone hanging from the tips of his fingers as he debated what to do then as if deciding, he sent a text to the one person he trusted not to make a big deal out of his thoughts and yet, manage to give him sound advice.  
Stiles- (21:43) --Can I talk to you?--

Isaac- (21:44) --Sure. Do you want to come over?--  
-(21:44) --Or if it'll make you feel better, I can come over.--

Stiles- (21:45) --You don't need to. I hope this would be brief.--  
\- (21:45) --I need advise on something that's been bothering me.--

Isaac- (21:45) --Alright. Shoot.--

Stiles- (21:47) --You know that day I visited? When you said Kira had come to talk to Scott because it seems she needed someone to talk to?--

Isaac- (21:48) --Uuuuuuuhhhhh..... Yeah I do. Where are you going with this?--

Stiles- (21:48) --Well, I told the guys about it and it got really tense in there.--

Isaac- (21:50) --They're tense because Kira hugged my boyfriend or maybe Scott hugged her? Wow, I'm touched.--

Stiles- (21:50) --Not about that, idiot.--  
\- (21:51) --I mean the fact that she could just come to Scott and y'know talk to him about stuff.--

Isaac- (21:51) --Ooh.--  
\- (21:51) --Oh wait. . . No. No way in hell are you even considering THAT!!--

Stiles- (21:51) --But why not? It doesn't feel like she's pack anymore.--

Isaac- (21:52) --That's not your fault. Or your problem.--

Stiles- (21:52) --Isn't it? If I didn't get with her dad, she'd still have me to talk to.--

Isaac- (21:53) --Oh right. So what, you were supposed to eternally remain single while she goes about enjoying lasbian sex?--

Stiles- (21:54) --Isaac.--

Isaac- (21:54) --Stiles!--  
\- (21:57) --Look, get that stupid thing out of your head that you were supposed to always be around for her. She hasn't been a coyote in more than a year. She has had sex. Straight, gay, who knows how many. She knows right from wrong, hell she even wore a dress once.--

Stiles- (21:57) --What's your point?--

Isaac- (21:59) --My point is, stop treating her like that fragile coyote in the woods and start treating her like an independent girl capable of taking responsibility for herself.--

Stiles- (22:00) --It's just that Peter is distressed and Derek isn't helping. He claims it's karma.--

Isaac- (22:00) --I believe in karma too.--  
\- (22:01) --And I don't think there's much you can do for Peter. He's a big guy. He'll think of something.--

Stiles- (22:02) --So you think it's a bad idea for me to try talking to Malia?--

Isaac- (22:04) --No. I think it's just wrong for you to blame yourself because that'll mean when you talk to her, you'll be gullible and might end up taking blame for all her shit.--

Stiles- (22:05) --Right. Maybe I'll calm down a bit before talking to her.--

Isaac- (22:05) --That'll be better.--

Stiles- (22:05) --Thanks, Isaac.--

Isaac- (22:06) --Anytime. And goodnight.--

Stiles- (22:06) --Sleep tight.--  
\- (22:06) --Scott's lucky.--  
\- (22:17) --Forget you ever got that.--

Isaac - (22:18) --I'll try.--

 

Walter jumped -figuratively- when the door to his room slammed open but his senses picked up the scent before he could wonder who he was. Not that it was surprising. Wearing only his boxer shorts, he managed to roll out of the way just in time to avoid being crushed by Isaac's body. He was staying in the wolf's room here in the loft because he didn't have the means to get an apartment, and Derek wanted to keep an eye on him so Isaac had offered. And he had accepted.

"Did I do something to deserve being squished into nonexistence this hot afternoon?" He asked lightly, his British accent only serving to escalate the humor in his tone. The weather was starting to heat up naturally as the days drew closer and closer to summer.

"Am I supposed to feel jealous when my boyfriend hugs his ex and holds her for a while?" Isaac asked instead, almost as if he hadn't heart Walter's words.

"Well, normal people do." The vampire replied with a shrug, pulling himself up into a sitting position to fluff the pillow before falling back onto it. "Why the sudden interest in the jealousy routine? You never struck me as the type."

"I'm not. The jealous type, I mean, and I guess that's the problem. Scott hugged Kira. Actually, a lot happened before that. Starting with him literally running out of bed the moment he smelt her at the door, then the cozy talk downstairs and all the euphoria I kept sniffing from her and then the hug. . ."

"So if you're not jealous about that, what are you jealous about?" Walter asked, brows furrowed in slight confusion as the wheels in his brains turned, trying to sort through Isaac's words.

"Nothing. It's just that Scott seemed to expect me to be jealous or mad or something. Some kind of negative emotion he would have to talk me out of." Isaac replied easily, finally turning to look at the pale boy beside him.

"I did say normal people would, in the beginning. But then, you're not normal. Not in a bad way . . . Just in your own way and it's endearing, I guess. I think Scott just confused you for a normal person for a while there. I'm sure afterwards, he realized his mistake."

"I don't know how I feel about that."

"There's really nothing to feel. You flirt with people all the time and I don't see the alpha stomping his foot and growling in jealousy. In fact, mostly, he's the first one to find it funny so why would he expect you to be jealous *if* he was flirting?" Walter really couldn't inderstand.

"Maybe it has to do with the fact that she's his ex. Meaning, at some point, he was *really* interested in her."

"Or maybe he trusts you completely but he doubts you trust him completely. At least not when it comes to your love relationship and not the alpha - beta one." Walter supplied helpfully and slouched when Isaac sat up quickly to look down at him with worried eyes.

"You think that's it? He doesn't think I trust him?"

"I'm hardly the one you should be talking to about this, considering a) I've never been in a relationship and b) I'm really new at all things werewolf and to clarify, I think he trusts you but since we were listing reasons why he would expect you to be jealous, I mentioned a practical one." When Isaac's face still reflected his murky thoughts, Walter sighed. "Of course there's some who believe that jealousy is an integral part of love. Hell, some even believe that if you don't get jealous, it means you don't love thoroughly although personally, I think it's bull."

Isaac shook his head and fell back onto the bed beside Walter. "So we've narrowed it down to what, me not being normal, Scott thinking I don't fully trust him and ooh yeah . . . Me not loving him enough to fear feeling any real loss if he left me. Wow."

"I'm all for the first one. The third one is totally absurd."

"Yeah.." He muttered to himself and reached out to gently punch the other's shoulder. 

"Of course there's the possibility that you can upright ask him. That's always efficient." Walter murmered after a while.

"Or I can just forget it. A million bucks says Scott has already forgotten it."

"What, the hug, what caused the hug, or what happened between you two after the hug? I don't know . . . but with Malia and Kira in that sour place, you don't forget because all you have to do is sniff them, or hear them argue to remember."

"True." Was all Isaac said then in a way that was *not* him, he muttered; "You think he's gonna leave me for her?"

"Are you insane? No don't answer that. I don't see the future, I'm not psychic and I haven't known Scott for long but you and him, you're mates. People hardly leave their mates. Vampires don't, even though for a vampire to find their mate, it's a one in a million chance. You can fall in love but to be mated is a commitment that our nature just doesn't allow but you wolves. . . That's a different thing. You and Scott are definitely mates, i'll bet my life on that."

Isaac made a sound that sounded like "pfft" but said nothing more. Talk of mates. . . He had talked of Scott finding a mate but never thought of an *actual* mate and perhaps that terrifies him.

"If any pack member is in trouble, Stiles included, Scott can keep his cool but if something were to happen to you, I think he'll willingly break his 'no killing' code and the whole pack will support it because they all know, even though they don't know that they know."

"That's some scary shit." Isaac whispered.

"You wanted me to reassure you so I am. You and him will be fine." The teen vampire said, flipping onto his stomach and plopping his chin in his palm.

"Yeah. . ." Isaac agreed with a grin. "Wanna go for a run?"

"You just never learn, do you?" He asked with a smirk and with a whooshing sound, he was dressed in slacks and sneakers.

"This time, an actual run. No superpowers." Isaac laughed as he got up and hooked an arm around Walter, steering him out of the room.

"I'll try but no promises."

 

 

In just her green and cream crochet hot pants and a grey hoodie which was several sizes bigger because it wasn't hers, Lydia padded barefoot out of the bedroom sometime that morning. She hadn't bothered to check the time because she had nowhere to go that day.

She went straight the the kitchen which was a contrast to the rest of the apartment with white kitchen cabinet, a single frosted glass window with light green floral pattern curtains and a black and while tiled floor. Pulling the fridge's door open, she rummaged through for something she could eat. "Soup . . . Fruits . . . I guess I can squeeze out some juice . . . Oh, crackers. There's a cake . . . Uh . . . What's this?" She muttered to herself as she turned a ziplock back in her hand, brows furrowed as if looking at it long enough would give her an idea what it is.

"It's pancake dough." Jordan said from behind her and she turned just her head to give him a smile before shutting the fridge's door.

"I didn't mean to wake you up." She says when she turned around fully.

"Oh no, you didn't. We slept in. It's almost midday so I'm guessing a part of me realized if I didn't want to fall sick, I need to wake up. Or perhaps just to get some food to eat. Will you bring me that dough?"

She opened the fridge again, pulling out the bag and handing it to him before bringing out some oranges, a pineapple and an apple to squeeze for juice.

She had come to him in that manner every two nights since that day they went to see the therapist together, usually to give him comfort. They spent the night talking and playing games till she was worn out or he was, or they both were, then fell asleep. Most nights, she woke up in the middle of the night to him sobbing or just moving around restlessly in his dream and she held him, slender arms around his bulky frame till his breaths calmed and then she spent hours afterwards trying to get back to sleep, mostly failing.

She had told Scott about what was happening with Jordan because he had asked. Apparently, he had noticed something was wrong and that, that really surprised her because how did Scott McCall do it? One moment he was as dense as black oil paint and the next, he's actually capable of noticing stuff.

She shook her head to clear it, eyes roaming over Jordan's really gorgeous body from where he was standing at the stove making pancakes. He only wore gray baggy sweatpants which hung low on his hipbones, back muscles taut and firm, glistening attractively from the little rays of sunlight that snuck in through the curtain.

"You do know I can feel your eyes on me, don't you?" Parrish muttered without actually turning around and Lydia couldn't help the light stain that crept into her cheeks. "And I also know that you just blushed but I refuse to be tempted." His tone resonated humor and Lydia couldn't help chuckling.

They still hadn't gotten to that bridge yet. It's been a year and some since they started dating and for some reason, he hasn't come any closer to her than he had when they started but after the past few weeks, she had resigned herself to stop expecting anything to happen anytime soon. Jordan had a problem and now she understood, or will understand if he out and out told her he had issues with intimacy. 

She didn't think he did, though. Everything else was intimate. The hand holding, those little strolls, the spooning, the playdancing, the long conversations about everything and nothing, the insanely arousing kisses, she loved it all. Couldn't get her fill, really, and could survive a lifetime on just that.

She walked to the sink and stuck the bowl of fruits under the faucet before turning to him, her forefinger trailing a thin line down his biceps. "You can't blame me for wanting. I do like what I see." Her smile was slow and lazy in coming and when his eyes followed her finger all the way to his wrist then up her arm to her shoulder then gradually her face, it was with the same look in his eyes as she had.

Want.

Intense desire.

"Lydia. . ." He croaked, then cleared his throat before starting again but she was shaking her head.

"Really, I guess this is a lesson in growing up. You can't always get what you want. Adult world and all-"

He turned to her, stepping closer to press his thumb on her naturally full lips. "But that's the thing. I want you to have everything, Lydia. Everything you want."

She blinked, looking up at him solemnly for a while before that slow smile crept up her face again. "Come on, we're both adults and it doesn't matter. Besides-" In the next moment, his hand had moved into her hair, combing it back from her face and Lydia couldn't help the shiver than run down her spine when she felt him coming closer till his lips were only a breath away from hers.

But then Jordan turned his head so that his lips cruised up her cheek, over her temple and she felt her bones melting, body pliant when she slipped into his arms.

Her head fell back, and she offered to him like she had been doing since he met her. No, it wasn't sex. She just gave everything, opened herself up for him, gave him the permission to drink from her. He wanted to be gentle, tender because the feel of his large hoodie on her with only a peek of the hot pants she wore underneath showing, and the rays seeping through the kitchen, he thought the day called for tenderness.

But as he felt himself sink into that soft, lush mouth, as her fragrance whispered seductively around him, he dragged her hard against himself with his other hands and plundered, instantly desperate and greedy. No rational thought vould find its way through the intense sensations she always brought to his being.

Raw hunger coursed though him, causing him to groan out in pleasure and he couldn't pull himself away from her, couldn't stop his mouth from seeking more of hers.

Lydia's trembling hands skimmed over his face, into his hair and tugged on the short strands. Her body, shuddering from the onslaught, pressed urgently to his. When she whispered his name, she was breathless. But he heard her, heard her through the blood pounding in his head, heard that soft, shaky sound.

She was trembling, or he was, and slowly, needing to catch his breath, he pulled away. Silently, her head fell onto his chest, forehead pressed against his skin as her breaths fanned over his nipple. His fingers run through her long mane of fiery hair in an effort to arrange them before wrapping his arms around her and pulling her to himself, just hugging her.

They stood there for what felt like forever, him slouched and hunching over her shorter frame before he heard her laughing softly. "What now?"

"I think the pancake is burnt." She muttered, sniffing the air.

With a chuckle and a bustle of limbs, he turned around to turn off the stove then spoke over his shoulder at her. "I think my utility bill will be really high this month. Those fruits are *thoroughly* clean." And that had her turning sharply to turn off the faucet.

"Sorry about that but I'm going to take only half the blame for almost flooding your kitchen."

"Yeah maybe I should stop kissing you." Jordan muttered in a faux serious tone.

"Don't you dare." They worked in companionable silence for a while before she muttered; "Apparently, I'm graduating top of my class."

"And that surprises you because?"

"Of course it doesn't surprise me. I'm just not thrilled about having to write a speech and all that stuff when all I wanna do in the next few months is fall asleep and remain asleep."

"What if I promise to help?" Jordan offered as he set the syrup on the table beside the plateful of pancakes.

"I would definitely love that. I just have no idea where to start from."

"You can start with a theme. Which would you want?"

"Friendships, maybe. Everlasting friendship." She poured the cocktail of fruits into two glasses and handed one to Jordan. "Maybe family. I don't think the pack is the only cluster of friends in school. Others have found that too so I think I'll go with that one. A sense of belonging, friendships that would last beyond Beacon Hills."

Parrish leaned in to press a kiss to her forehead. "You'll do terrific."


	7. Graduation. [1st - 14th June, 2013 ]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one with Graduation.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter contains explicit sex scenes so viewer discretion is expected. That said, thanks and enjoy.

Chapter 7 - Graduation. [ 1st - 14th June, 2013 ]

To say she was stressed would be the largest understatement of her entire life but alas! no other word could capture her emotions in that moment. Everyday activity was just plain excruciating and tiring and to top it of, she was hardly getting any sleep.

Jordan's nightmares were getting less and less intense and really that was a good thing but she was still finding it hard to go back to sleep when she woke up to soothe him and she spent most of her day doing research on how to write a graduation speech.

So there she was, seating with her laptop in her lap as she perused the internet for anything and everything that has to do with graduation and speeches. She munched on a pickle, chewing as she murmured to herself, her pen moving even as she spoke.

"Okay so I start with what I want to talk about . . . That's going to be about friendships. It's easier. Okay. . . Storytelling. I don't think I want to go about telling everyone real stories." She shrugged her shoulders as if she was in an actual conversation with someone else, making a "clack" sound when her tongue hit the roof of her mouth before she bit once more into the pickle. 

"I don't think they'll believe my real ones anyway. . ." Then she struck a silly pose, cleared her throat and when she spoke, her accent was too familiar to Walter's. "Hi, my name is Lydia Martin and I'm a banshee. Don't ask me to scream because I can't do that unless I sense death. It's a heriditary thing. Oh yeah, Scott McCall is a werewolf. An alpha, actually. Well, to be precise, he's a true alpha and his eyes glow red at will. Isaac's a wolf too. Malia is a coyote, Kira is a kitsune . . . Yeah right." 

She scoffed and curled back into her hunched form on the bed, resolving to go back to the laptop. ". . . Clichés and platitudes to avoid. . . This is the beginning. Time of unprecendented . . . The future belongs to you . . . This is your day . . . Current unemployment rates . . . Go change the world . . .I don't see anything wrong with telling someone to go change the world though. hmmm... Yeah maybe it's too cheesy. Anyway, going on . . . Today is not the end of your education, but the beginning. We gathered here today to mark a milestone. . . Accelerating change in the world from globalization and technology. . .That promises to be a very boring speech. Everything you have done so far has been preparing you for these moments." 

She took another bite of the pickle. "That one's familiar. Was that in the Smallville series finalle?" And then she slumped back against the pillows, tired as hell yet not really sleepy. "Okay what's the last thing I need to . . . Right, length of speech. 10 minutes! Not much longer. I refuse to go longer. So ten minutes of pretending to be smarter than everyone. Well, technically, I am. And that is why I'm being made to bear this burden. Dammit."

Lydia had no idea how long she lay there on her bed, mind utterly blank as her eyes went from the blank Microsoft Word 2010 sheet to the little jotter she had written the tips down on but then suddenly, she had images in her head, gifs, videos of her life in the past two years and she was suddenly overwhelmed.

"God, I miss you so much." She whispered to the air in her bedroom, feeling a tight knot start to form in her throat. "I miss you so much. . . And I never got to thank you, never got to realize how much I have you to thank for." She gently pushed the laptop off her lap and curled into a ball on her side.

She realized now, knowing Scott McCall has made her a better person, a better friend and yes, she knew that but she would never have spoken to the curly-haired, crooked jawed and asthmatic dork had Allison not seen something worthy in him. 

"I wish you were here, Ally." She whispered after what felt like hours of thinking about the best friend she met and fell in love with almost instantly then drifted off into sleep.

Finally.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

"You know how I said I was going to write about family or like friendship, yeah well, I can't seem to be able to start the darn thing. I mean I start it but then I look at the sheet after an hour and it's got like a blank page or if I'm lucky, three lines." Lydia grumbled, tossing around in Jordan's bed.

The man just sat propped up against the head of the bed, two large pillows stuck between his back and the wood as he watched Lydia's agitated form on his bed. "You can have one of those speeches where you don't write it down and just speak, y'know . . . About what it is you feel in that moment."

"Well that's the really icky thing about being the valedictorian. You're the "smart one" so everyone expects such perfection from you." She grumbled.

"You're perfect. You don't need to try to be perfect and whatever you need to write is in there. In your heart and in your brain, both really large parts of you and I'm sure if you calm down and stop panicking, you'll find it'll come to you." The deputy managed with a smile, reaching out to gran Lydia's hand and give it a gentle squeeze.

It was only a few minutes to midnight and for some reason, they were both not at all sleepy tonight so lying about was the unanimous option except that Lydia seemed about to crack open from the pressure of having to finish the speech in only a few days.

She smiled up at him, a slow and lazy smile then suddenly and as though by some unseen force, she moved up to where he sat on the bed and straddled him easily and set her lips on his, kissing his warm flesh while one hand spread across his strong jaw. Jordan made a tormented sound somewhere deep in his chest as he moved his hands up to cup her cheeks, tilt her head and seize her lips like a man possessed, thrusting his tongue so deep and hard into her mouth till she felt the sizzling lick down . . . there.

Lydia cried out and he growled, greedily sucking her tongue as he felt unleashed and the desire to devour her whole was confounding. "Christ." He muttered against her lips, grabbing fistfuls of that silky hair and drawing her closer to himself and making her lips more assessible to his wicked ones. Butterflies exploded in Lydia's stomach and an odd little sound of pleasure escaped somehow as he tasted more and more of her.

Driven by an urgency and thirst she has never known, she looped her arms around his neck and melded into him. His tonge felt firm and hot against hers, groaning as it swept through her mouth, mapping it out thoroughly and Lydia responded. She couldn't not. She drunk hungrilly from him, taking whatever he was offering, which in that moment, felt like all of him and she, greedy and hungry for him, took till she jerked back from the force of her own desire. 

Jordan growled and slid low on the bed and in that same move, flip them over so she was on her back, legs spread wide around his and he was settled between them like it was home. Oh yeah it *felt* like home. He dove for her lips once more, growling out; "give" before his lips clashed on hers and she did. She gave in completely as she tugged on handfuls of his short strands.

His hands clamped on her waist as the kiss intensified, the biting bulge of his erection scraping tantalizingly against her stomach. Her breasts throbbed where they pressed against his chest and unconsciously, her pelvis begun to move, craving all of him.

Lydia bit into his lip and he bit back harder, mummering an endearment that was lost on her muddy brain and she whimpered poutily when he inched back slightly. She looked up at him and even in the dim light coming from the bedside lamp, she could see his eyes as though they were ablaze on passion. Lust. Burning lust. Jordan wanted her so a part of her really wondered how he kept pulling back everytime things got heated between them. She was steaming with desire and he was looking down with her with perhaps x10 the same intensity yet he wasn't going to do anything about it. She knew.

She didn't know whose breath was shallower or whose body felt tighter pressed against the other and she was beginning to yearn afresh, to yearn for the voracious and unchecked way he kissed her. Blood thrilling in her veins, spiced with desire and lust and love for the man hovering over her, she slid her shaking hands down the solid wall of his naked torso, enjoying the sharp way he inhaled as he watched her with flaming green eyes.

He was firm and long and pulsing against her stomach. He smelled of sex and wanting, darkly and avidly gazing down at her as no one has ever looked at her. "Lydia . . ." He whispered softly and with a small yet shaky smile, she replied.

"I just . . . want . . . to . . . to kiss you some more." And he never could deny her anything she asked so ever so willing, he leaned into her again, fingers tangling in her hair, devouring her mouth in contrast to how he had kissed her only moments prior. He took his time till she was almost in tears as a part of her felt lazy and ready to sleep while the other part wanted him. 

Deep inside her.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The deputy sheriff pushed back from his desk and in one swift and exaggerated move, swivelled his chair around. Finally. His whole body seemed to cry out. 

The Beacon Hills sheriff's station has been chosen among the several law enforcement agencies in California to go high-tech, using a real-time digital software program to catch criminals and He, Parrish, was definitely aboard that train except the hours he had spent that morning testing all the wares that have been supplied. 

While driver licenses and other forms of identification have been around for years, they aren’t always the best way to ID an individual especially since these people that *need* to be identified are usually so good at lying. Besides, agencies like Homeland Security use biometric technology to identify people, and it seems to go well for them so now what could be wrong with local police departments following suit? 

The process is in using special facial recognition technology accessed via computer tablet that has software downloaded on it to allow a police officer to do a facial recognition assessment. On top of that, it's so easy to use: Just take a   
photograph of a person, that image is then run through a criminal database, with instant results and you get feedback within seconds. 

Images that match the picture and important personal information such as name address, criminal history and more. From the viewpoint of an officer of the law as well as the evidence of the alarming criminal rate in Beacon Hills, he believed the technology is crucial in the fight against career criminals who give the police false identification and information. 

While it may be easy to change one’s name, it’s much harder to change one’s appearance. Obviously, not everybody seems to be on board the idea of the biometric system of identification. People are only thinking about how the technology encroaches on a person's privacy which is an utter load of crap to him. 

It's not like he'll go around taking pictures of people when he's bored. He finds no thrill whatsoever in voyeurism but he is a professional and that means anything with the chance of helping, he'll get and approve of it. Period. 

It’s not used for routine traffic stops, and if you’re not in the criminal database, you have no need to worry.

"Earth to Jordan." He heard the voice loud and clear, breath ghosting over his cheek and jerked forward, turning around with his seat to look at Lydia but he couldn't feign annoyance for long.

"Well, somebody looks good." He said it and meant every last word of it.

Dressed in a fresh mint green slightly bigger chiffon dressed that stopped a few inches above her knee, her long strawberry blonde hair cascading to one side of her head and covering her right ear in the process while leaving her left ear bare and showing the simple pink studs which matched the. . . His eyes followed her arm till he saw the lunchbox, a grin spreading across his face instantly.

"I guess this is when I introduce her. I brought you lunch for us to eat because you said you were going to be busy and I don't think running on an empty stomach will be as efficient as if you actually take the time to-"

"Lydia." He cut in, brows raised in a way that made his humor evident. She stopped talking to look at him expectantly. "I never said I wouldn't eat it so you do realize you don't have to tell me all the reasons why this is a good idea?"

She chuckled simply then with a little quirk off her head, Jordan was up and rearranging his desk to provide enough space. Well, technically, he removed everything except his computer.

"Okay I made egg rolls, salad... I put avocado in the salad I hope you don't mind." She muttered as she took out the bowls out one after the other.

"No I don't."

"Also got kiwi 'cause I read that it's good for the prevention of dizziness and basically feeling faint."

"No complains about that one." Jordan replied as he opened a bowl only to see dices of tomatoes. Nothing more. Just. . . Tomatoes. "Why so many tomatoes?"

Lydia didn't look up at him when she replied. "The tomato has been referred to as a "functional food," a food that goes beyond providing just basic nutrition, additionally preventing chronic disease and delivering other health benefits due to beneficial phytochemicals such as  
lycopene. One medium tomato provides 22 calories, 0 grams of fat, 5 grams of carbohydrate -including 1 gram of fiber and 3 grams of sugar- and 1 gram of protein. Tomatoes are a rich source of vitamins A and C and folic acid. They contain a wide array of beneficial nutrients  
and antioxidants, including alpha-lipoic acid, lycopene, choline, folic acid, beta-carotene and lutein. Alpha-lipoic acid helps the body to convert glucose into  
energy. Some evidence suggests that alpha-lipoic acid can aid in blood glucose control, improve vasodilation and protect against retinopathy in diabetic patients and may even help preserve brain and nerve tissue. Choline in tomatoes also helps with sleep, muscle movement, learning and memory and maintenance of the structure of cellular membranes. Superficially, it gives you healthy skin and hair, increased energy and lower weight, and is known to cure several types of cancer *including* prostate cancer and it also helps with depression." When she turned around to look at him, he was stiffling a laugh so she punched him lightly in the shoulder. "I went overboard again, didn't I?"

"Oh no. Totally not. It was. . . educational, to say the least. What's that?"

She looked at the last unopened bowl of the table and shrugged. "Smoked turkey. I got that one at the store and microwaved it. God knows I won't know how to actually do it from scratch." And with that, she jumped onto the table before him, her legs swinging at the sides.

They had been eating for thirty minutes when he mumbled; "I visited my sister. Two days ago."

Lydia was a little taken aback by the declaration for a moment before nodding slowly. "That makes sense."

"You're not bothered that i'm now telling you?" He asked, setting the empty bowl aside.

"No of course not. There's some things that we need time for." Lydia replied with a smile. "How was she? Is there any news on that front?"

"Oh she looks fine. Apparently, she got into several. . . problems after she got in so she had an extension but she gets out in four years. Hopefully." And that, he was happy about. "Told her about you, eventually because as I expected, she was mad at me but after I explained, she seemed to calm down a bit."

"Well, that is good. I hope to meet her someday." She replied, meaning every word.

"I think she would like to -" Jordan's words were cut short when the sheriff walked into the building, eyebrows raised in question at the pair. ". . . Lydia cooked." Jordan explained, earning a chuckle from the man.

"And there's a bowl for you." She chipped in, picking up the bowl she had prepared specially for him. "Eating healthy, Sheriff. Stiles has made us all watchdogs."

John Stilinski just shook his head and took the bowl from her. 

Stiles worried too much.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

"My mom's not home. She had to leave because of some emergency thing that came up." Was the first thing Lydia said when she opened the door for Jordan friday evening.

A slow smile spread onto his lips as he leaned forward to press a light kiss to her lips before stepping into the house. "Hi to you too and I brought movies for us to watch. Couldn't decide on one so. . ." He held up the three DVDs and waited for her to lock the door behind them and turn to face him. ". . . Which one? Warm bodies? Identity thief? Or G.I Joe: Retaliation?"

Lydia reached out to grab them, grinning. "Or we could watch all of them and we just have to decide which one to watch first."

"That's also a good idea." Parrish agreed.

"Great. Identity thief first. You go put it in and i'll get, or make, popcorn.

" 'kay. See you in a bit." And then they went to seperate parts of the house to do their tasks.

They sat down a few moments later, Lydia's legs curled up under her on the couch while Parrish sat on the floor, both reaching into the bowl at alternating times so that the awkward hand touching thing never happened.

Occassionally, a laugh errupted through the room and sometimes from both of them. Of course most of Parrish's laughs came from watching the G.I Joe whiles Lydia's came from watching Identity thief.

Half the time, they argued about which movie was better with neither willing to let go of the riens to the other then finally, after an hour since the G.I Joe movie ended, they decided; "One more movie then we'll make an objective decision."

So there they sat, each with their eyes set on the TV screen as zombies milled around in abandoned buildings. Boneys and people named R and M. -clever-

They both reached into the bowl at the same time for the first time that night. No, there weren't electric currents that made them feel like fireworks elevating towards blow up point but the action brought Jordan's attention to the woman beside him.

His Lydia.

More than anything, he wanted her. In all sense of the word and he wanted above all her features, the one thing that sets her apart from the rest. Her brains. Her desire to learn, the way she got agitated when a friend was in trouble, how much she enjoyed helping. 

He heard stories about how she used to be but watching her now, he could not even spot a trace of that girl. No, before him was a woman. A perfect mold just for him. A woman he loved thoroughly and completely, strong and firm, willful and loyal, smart and sentimantal, weak yet strong. . .

He loved her. He loved her and would marry her instantly if she'll have him, and the fact that that realization alone didn't scare him had him thinking just how gone he was. How lost he was in her.

Oh that abyss. . . From that first time, she worked to capture his heart and dear Lord, he knew. He knew she was conquering him but he was a very willing victim. Extremely willing.

Lydia turned her head to look down at Jordan when her question had gone unanswered only to see the man, looking up at her with an unfamiliar expression that had her heart swelling to the point she thought it was going to explode. Man, she loved him. Reaching out her hand, she cupped the side of his face gently, watching with joy when he didn't jerk away but slowly turned his face to bury it in her palm, pressing a deep kiss right there in the middle of it with his eyes closed.

When his eyes finally fluttered open, she saw the smile in them before she felt his lips move. "feeling calmer now?"

Dumbfounded for a while, she just stared at him for a while then leaned in quickly to smack a kiss to his lips. "Nope. But I've decided this one is definitely my favorite. The movie." She added before he could get confused. 

In a swift and seemingly effortless motion, Jordan jerked his arm and pulled her down into his lap. "Stay here. I wanna hold you tonight." He muttered when she tried to shift.

"Anytime." Was her easy response as she settled against him to watch the rest of the movie, both making an unconscious decision to avoid talking about her speech, the next day.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

Lydia Martin sat in her seat, toying with her fingers and occassionally playing with the brochure in her lap that had the schedule of programmes for that day. She had been at the rehearsal ceremony two days prior and had gone through the motions of it all yet today, with everyone there, she found her nerves really frayed.

She had turned off her phone at the beginning od the ceremony hours ago but she was itching to talk to Jordan, to just look at him or hold his hand or just. . . She needed him. Especially since with every moment that passes, she counts how many more speeches she has to sit through before it was her turn to speak and at the moment, she was next to go up.

With a muttered apology to the girl seated between them, Scott leaned over to grab Lydia's fisted hand on her thigh, succeeding in getting the banshee's attention. "You'll be fine. You do know you're the smartest."

It was in her mind to tell him not to patronize her but she found herself grinning and squeezing his hand back just as she was introduced and she had to speak. 

Lydia Martin has never been a nervous wreck or shy by any standards and like the succubus she absolutely wasn't, she fed off the energy from the applause she got on her walk to the podium.

She cleared her throat and adjusted the microphone, then before she could help it, a nervous chuckle slipped past her lips. 

Good morning. 

It's a glorious morning, the sun is shining and there is no lightening or rain to force us indoors. Personally, I don't understand why graduation ceremonies happen in June when the rains come down heavily. That said, I am really glad, and feel fortunate to be among the people gathered here today to celebrate another year of a manifestation of this school's penchant for raising responsible youth for the betterment of society and the nation as a whole.

My fellow students, we only arrived here four short years ago, and now it's already time to leave. How did it all go so fast? I asked myself all through the last two weeks I spent writing this speech. It seems like only yesterday that we were skinny little freshmen fighting with the locks on our lockers, trying to figure out where our next class was, and looking generally clueless to all the upper classmen. 

Now we are the upperclassmen, the seniors who stand here ready to graduate and move forward in the world. Yet at this seminal moment, we can't help looking back. How do we measure the time we've spent in high school? In the beginning, we measured it in class periods, counting down the day to eventual freedom. As the days and weeks passed, we measured it in semesters, and later in years as we moved from being those clueless freshmen, to becoming sophisticated sophomores who thought they had it all figured out. By the time we reached our junior year, we were confident that we were prepared to take over for the graduating seniors, and we couldn't wait to "rule the school." And now here we stand. Our rule is over, and it's up to the next class to step into our shoes and take over. 

I know that as I look out at all of you, I will measure my time here in a much different way. I will measure it in all the friendships I've enjoyed these last four years, especially in the last two years. Some were pretty casual and others were much closer, others were fleeting, and others remain imprinted in my heart and soul but I'll remember each one fondly, as I'm sure you all will, too. 

. . . Friends are gifts to the spirit, a golden thread to the meaning of life and those that we made in our years in this school, old and new, alive or otherwise," Her breath caught in her throat as an image of her and Allison talking about graduation or more accurately, fantasizing about it, came to mind but she shut her eyes firmly to rid herself of it. Perhaps later, she would indulge but now, she couldn't afford to blank out.

". . . will be with us in their own way, for a very long time yet, changing us, molding us into the persons we will become, the people we will allow ourselves to be.

And when many of our high school memories begin to fade, that's how we'll   
ultimately measure the time we spent here, not in periods or semesters or years, but in the friendships that we made and the times we shared together." her eyes trailed through the seated students and found, one by one, her packmates, sharing a brief and knowing smile with them. 

". . . We stand here today on the precipice of the future. It's not a distant reality anymore. It begins here. It begins today. We began high school as children, but we're leaving here as adults. We've completed a basic education that will serve as the platform we use to launch ourselves into our futures.

Some of us will go on to college, others will go straight into the work force, but each of us will travel our own path. No matter where we go or what we do, there are challenges ahead of us. What I'm asking from each of you, and from myself, is to meet those challenges straight on with your head held high and your heart wide open. 

It's not enough to simply try to get by in life. We must try to excel in everything we do; strive for excellence in every task, large or small. Although it may not be easy to see, every accomplishment we achieve is added to the world's accomplishments. If even 1/4 of individuals worked to make their lives successful, they could still make some amazing contributions to society. Well, we may not have the power to inspire the entire world to strive for success, but we do have the power to try to  
achieve it for ourselves. My challenge to each of you, and to myself, is to do all that you can do to reach your full potential. 

 

We worked hard to get to this point, but we didn't do it by ourselves. We owe a huge debt of gratitude to the following people: 

To our teachers, thank you for so unselfishly sharing your time, talent and knowledge with us. Yes, we know it was  
your job to do it, half the time, we grumbled snottily -I know I did- about how we are paying you to do it but what you did for us went beyond the call of duty. You took the time to explain assignments, sometimes repeatedly because we weren't paying attention. You allowed us to come to your classroom after school for extra help when you could have gone home to spend time with your family. You put in the effort to make lessons more interesting so we wouldn't just tune out. You demanded excellence from us whether or not we wanted to give it. You set the bar high and challenged us to live up to it. 

To our parents, my mom, thank you for supporting us in more ways than it's possible to count. You dragged us out of bed each morning, made sure we were fed and clothed for school. With a strict hand, often unappreciated, you instilled discipline in us and listened to our complaints. You came to our plays, attended our sporting events, and chaperoned our dances. You commiserated over our daily dramas, but you tried to give us enough space to learn how to work things out for ourselves. 

To our coaches, particularly Coach Bobby Finstock because although he was coach of the lacrosse team, he was all of our coach at one point or another, and advisors, thank you for making school   
about more than just classwork. Through sports, we learned how to power on through adversity and give it our best effort, win or lose. Some of us also learned the importance of sitting in the stands and cheering loudly till we lost our voices for long stretches of time." She paused to laugh, the crowd joining in with her before she went on. 

". . . We learned the importance of discipline and good sportsmanship. Through other activities like participating in clubs, school plays and service projects, we learned how to work closely with others to achieve a common goal, and we had a lot of fun doing it. 

To our custodial staff and lunch room attendants, thank you for keeping our school clean and safe. You know better than anyone else what slobs we've been. You actually deserve some kind of medal. 

To our principal, vice principal and all the office staff, thank you for keeping things running smoothly so our teachers could concentrate on us. We're better off for it. 

To our guidance counselors, thank you for listening and trying to keep us on the right track for graduation. Without your help, some of us might not be graduating today. 

We truly are grateful for all your support and say that we will pay that debt of gratitude forward so that posterity would find the world a better place.

Congratulations my fellow graduates of the class of 2013. Wherever we go and whatever we do, may we always be friends when we meet again.

And remember, our time is limited, so don't waste your life living someone else's. Don't let the noise of others' opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most importantly, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition." With another nod to no one in particular, she concluded, her tone somber to signal her speech was coming to an end.

". . . And finally, these are a few words by Mark Lewis I'd like for you to remember always; The person who you’re with most in life is yourself and if you don’t like yourself, you’re always with somebody you don’t like.

And that, is my way of telling you to do the things that make you happy, to let lose and have fun. Take time off to smell the flowers, to offer someone a helping hand, to prank your friends, to learn new things.

We are all, after all, equal in the fact that we are all different. Thank you."

It was easier to breathe and enjoy the ceremony after she got that out of her system and grinned all the way through the handing of the diplomas till the last student was seated again and the soft music was back on.

"So I was thinking. . ." Lydia smiled even before she heard him. Jordan had somehow caught up with her, wrapping his arms around her from behind.

"Mmmhm?" She leaned into him, partly because she was tired from all the merrymaking and the taking of pictures and partly because his arms felt like home.

"Is the lakehouse going to be free for the weekend?"

She turned around quickly in his arms, a disbelieving smile on her face. "Wait. . . Are you being serious right now?"

"Of course. Unless you don't want me t-" His words were cut short by her lips on his, a slow and sensual kiss that somehow managed to not be a disturbing sight to behold.

"Yess.." She hissed when they pulled away from the kiss, her lips still hovering close to his, his breath ghosting easily over her cheek because her heels have bridged the height gap between them. "Yes. There's nothing I want more." She didn't know what he was proposing but they could spend the whole time telling stories and she'll still love it. An image of the way he had looked at her the night before had her leaning in to press her lips to his in a brief kiss.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Sometime three hours later, after saying their final goodnyes and shopping for groceries, Lydia had gone hom to shower and change clothes and so had Jordan, who waited for his girlfriend to get to the station so they can drive to the lakehouse in her car. It would not be appealing to ride in the sheriff car to the outskirts of town. That would get some attention and really, he just wanted some time alone with her, away from everything and everyone.

Jordan chose to drive, and thirty minutes later, he turned into the drive and shut the engine. He didn't know how, but before he could stop himself, he muttered in the silence of the car; "You daze me."

"I know." Lydia whispered, having been caught up in her thoughts. Truly, she could not even form one coherent thought but if Jordan felt about her a tenth of what she felt for him, then yes, she understood perfectly what he meant. ". . . But then, we're not entirely normal people so I guess we just have to accept that today is enough."

"No it isn't." He muttered, turning his attention to her then, his fiery green eyes darkened and intense. "Not with you. What I feel for you, I've never felt for anyone. What I have with you, I've never had with anyone and I just know, without a doubt that you're exactly what I want." His hands were rough as he dragged her against him, her startled gasp muffled against his hard, seeking mouth.

A whip of panicked excitement cracked through her as he tore her free of the set belt and yanked her across his lap. His hands bruised and his mouth seared and in the back of her mind, she realized this was not the Jordan she knew, the one who oh so tenderly hugged and kissed her, touched and carressed her subtlely, the one who took long walks with her and brushed her hair off her face.

He has become darker, something dangerous, something she was helpless to resist. She felt her blood sizzling as his rough, impatient hands roamed over her with the same wildness he had shown that night a few days ago in his bed and he felt close to bursting after all that time of waiting and wanting nothing more than to ravish her.

Lydia strained against him, willing and eager with mindless and wanton need, wanting more than anything, to give into him completely. A violent shudder tore through her as he dragged her over the ragged edge, her cry muffled by his hot and sinful lips on hers. Lydia's fingers dug desperately into his shoulders and for a crazy moment, Jordan realized how appealingly possible it was to have here there, right there in the car, before reason caught up with either of them.

He tore at her blouse, craving the taste of flesh. The sound of ripping seams was smothered by her loud gasp as he feasted on her throat. Beneath his hungry mouth, her pulse hammered, erratically, erotically. The flavour of her was already hot and honeyed with passion. On a grumbled oath, he shoved the door open, yanking her out and half carrying her towards the main door of the house and leaving the car door wide open.

"The car-" She tried to reason.

"To hell with the car." He grumbled, his fingers finding their way into her flowing curls, tangling in them as he pulled her closer to him still, devouring her liscious lips, his tongue plundering into her warm mouth, growling like an unleashed beast and when he pulled back from the kiss, for a brief moment, his eyes held a promise as much as a threat. There was something in them that made her want to beg him to take her anyhow he wanted and by god that terrified her.

"Do you have any idea what you do to me?" He grumbled, lips close to hers and his breath ragged and shallow. Some other time, she would have teased, but right now she felt dizzy and just as light headed as Jordan seemed to be feeling. "Everytime I see you . . ." He continued when he didn't get an answer. ". . . Soft, serene with something smoldering just behind your eyes and I yearn, noon and night just to have you but I can't. . . I can't hold it in anymore, I swear I'm close to losing my mind."

Without any further warning, he pushed her against the door, crashing his lips to hers, devouring those soft and tender lips and when his eyes cracked slightly opened, he could see it, her fear, the same, he imagines, that showed in his eyes but Jordan was never one to give in to fear. The other mutual reaction was arousal. Arousal for each other and yes, he wanted to give into that. And perhaps he had, because gradually, they both seem to have realized that the animal he had kept on a choke chain since they got together has finally broken free.

"Tell me. . . Lydia. . . Tell me you want me. Right now." His words came on sharp gasps, eyes lidded and hovering on the brink. Dear lord he craved her badly.

Her fear turned to one of not being able to speak but gradually, she managed to form words. "Take me, Jordan . . . All of me. Please. Take me right now."

It was all the assurance he needed and more and in one swift motion, he hooked his hands in her blouse, tearing the fabric lose and off her body in one swift move. He kicked the door open, both stumbling through and like her blouse, he felt his control in tatters.

Bracing his hands firmly on her waist, he lifted her of her feet and took a braless breast into his hungry mouth, moaning around the hardened peak when her legs wrapped around him and feeling just as crazed as he was, Lydia's back arched, her hands tangled in his hair and tugged as she yearned for more of what he was doing to her. That delicious torment.

"Jor- . . . Jordan please." And she had no idea what she was begging for but she knew it was not for him to stop. Oh no she needed more. When his lips trailed upwards, her palms moved down to cup his face and pull it to hers, their lips finding each other like lost lovers finding solace in each other and she drunk from him.

Jordan's teeth scraped erotically over her swollen lips and his tongue delved into her mouth like a calvary, claiming, marking, and her hands got busy trying to pull his shirt off frantically. Stumbling on the stairs, his hand reached around him to pull off his own shirt, noting in the back of his mind that his buttons were scattered all over the floor and then he was stumbling, on the stairs with her, his hand wrapped around her to prevent a big bump but the collision only served to create a wanton friction between their sexes, Lydia moaning loudly, her neck bared and legs wrapping tightly around his legs. She had lost her shoes somewhere along the way. Not that it mattered in that moment.

"Here." He groaned. "Right here." At last, he feasted, racing his mouth over her quivering flesh, ruthlessly exploiting her secrets, relentlessly driving her with him where he so desperately needed her to go. He had no patience nor worry for her fragility because the woman beneath him was anything but fragile.

There was strength in the arms that gripped him, searing passion in the lips that tasted him so eagerly and whiplike agility in the lithe body that strained under his. She felt invisible. Lydia felt immortal and impossibly free and her blood was boiling with desire till she thought she was falling into an abyss. She gripped onto him till her knuckles were white.

Jordan tore through her shorts, then slipped off the thin swatch of lace beneath. His mouth was greedy, fevered and frantic with every inch of skin exposed and Lydia bit back a scream as he sent her flying into space, mindlessly murmuring to him although he couldn't understand a word she was saying. It pleased him to know he did that to her with his touches and carresses, to know that his hands and lips were driving her crazy just as her presence has done to him in that whole year in which his abstinence has now grown into mindless and lawless passion.

He had waited. Oh yes he had, and now, her slim, white body bucked under him, quivering and pleading in sultry tones till he pushed down his pants and drove himself into that wet, waiting heat. She arched up to meet his downward thrusts, their hips moving at frantic speed as with every grind and buck, they soared towards that crashin orgasm, spilling his seed deep inside her.

 

Her hands slid weakly off his damp back. She felt numb, her blood humming with the music of pleasure. She wanted to hold him, to hug him close to her but her strength was gone and she couldn't even think straight but she thought how Jordan could have possibly strapped his desire for her in when it was this dark and great and ever so slowly, she turned her damp face into his neck.

Beneath his still quivering body, she was limp as water and Jordan struggled to get grips on reality. He needed to move, he realized. After everything he had done to her, crushing her with his weight just seemed extreme but as he started to shift, she made a little sound of distress that bothered his conscience.

He pulled out and onto his hunches, a feeling of self-disgust washing over him when she whimpered and turned onto her side. He had taken her right there on the stairs! Like a savage! "Lydia... Let me help you up." He managed to say after a while only for her to shake her head. "I don't know how to explain this." He muttered dejectedly.

"Explain?" The word was barely audible. Her throat was wild with thirst.

"Nothing can justify this but at least let me help you up." He tried to get her up but her body just slid back down.

"I don't think I can get up." She moistened her lips and tasted him. "Not for a day or two. This is fine though, I'll just stay right here."

Jordan frowned at her as he tried to interpret what he heard in her voice. It wasn't anger -like he had expected-. It didn't sound like distrss either. It sounded very much like . . . Satisfaction. "You're not upset?"

"Hmm? Am I supposed to be?"

"Well, for . . . I practically attacked you. Hell, I *did* attack you, almost taking you in the front seat of the car, tearing off your clothes, dragging you in here and devouring you on the stairs."

With eyes still closed, she whispered, "You certainly did. It is the first time I have been devoured and I doubt I'll be able to go down a staircase the same way again."

The purely male part of him revelled in the subtle praise but the lover in him tilted her head towards him, waiting till her eyes opened to meet his. "I had intended to make it to the bedroom, at least."

"I'm sure we'll get there eventually." She reassured him with a smile then yawned almost immediately. She was exhausted and had the whole weekend ahead of them.

He lifted her up the stairs and into bed, both falling asleep instantly.

 

When she woke up a few hours later, she was alone and naked in bed and at the back of her mind, she recalled that it was a sunday and Jordan didn't have to go to work. She stretched and purred, feeling her body tingling as memories from the previous night crept up into her head. Oh yes the long wait was finally over and yes, it had been worth every second of that torture.

Padding barefoot to the closet, she pulled on a large T-shirt that looked like his and shrugged it on, then a flimsy pair of panties before making her way cautiously down the stairs. Jordan was in the kitchen sorting up the groceries they had bought the previous day into ziplock bags when she walked in, eyebrows raised in question.

"Did you sleep well?" He asked quietly and she responded with a hum, pulling herself up on the swivel seat and leaning over to pick an apple and a knife from the other end of the island.

"Best sleep I've had in months." She muttered around the apple in her mouth then groaned when some of the juice escaped from the corners of her lips. Jordan reached out with a napkin to wipe at it but she was already licking it so his hand dropped limply onto the surface, eyes still fixed on her lips when he whispered; "Well, I'm glad I could help."

"Mmm you did more than help." She chuckled, then licked her lips again, causing him to growl low in his throat as he moved around the kitchen island, his expression shifting from emotionless to lusty in a heartbeat.

Savage and oddly boyish features were suddenly start with hunger that exploded in the air around them. Lydia stared at him in fascination as he swung the kitchen stool on its swivel base till he could push between her thighs.

That easy. She was too easy, she thought distantly as his hand curved around her neck to hold her head in place as he lowered his head. Her slightly aching muscles wanted to protest but like hell she would. Her lips parted just as her legs had, taking his mouth with hers. She couldn't help it. He tasted like rich, dark coffee and hungry male and she now realized that he had coffee brewing when she had walked in. The combination was an aphrodisiac she didn't want to resist.

Pleasure suffused her from head to toe, wrapping along her nerve endings as her arms lifted and curled around his neck, pulling him close to her. He held her tightly for long seconds before pulling back and lifting her against him, lips never leaving hers. Jordan's kisses were familiarly dizzying and intoxicating and a feeling of being lost in space washed over her as he slanted his head and devoured her lips from a deeper angle.

Her butt met the cold surface of the kitchen island, allowing her to press herself tighter to him. His hips were wedged between her thighs, his cock, a hard, thick wedge between the fabric of his shorts, was pressed against the mound of her pussy, rubbing the material of her panties against her clit.

There wasn't enough clothing between them to protect her against the sensations and she knew in her heart and guts that nothing ever felt this good, this hot. Sexual intensity build up inside her, wound through her system and centered in her womb as he ground his cock against her, his hands gripping her hips, holding her to him.

Arcs of sizzling pleasure raced through her blood stream as she moaned into the kiss. She wanted more, needed more and yet she wanted other things as well. Lydia wanted to taste more than his lips, wanted more than his erection stroking her through his shorts. No, she wanted to feel it hot and bare, sinking into her and stroking her to ecstasy.

Jordan licked at her lips then nipped slightly at the flesh, grumnling out; "Damn I love your taste." and then his lips were moving from hers to her jaw then dropping tender nips along her jawline before his head dipped further and his lips moved to her neck, sucking on the skin till it bruised lightly. He pulled back to watch his handiwork, a pleased look on his face and taking the time out to pull her T-shirt off her shoulders.

"Taste me some more." Lydia whispered, shivering at the feeling of whiplash when the cold morning air hit her heated up flesh. She was all but naked in front of him now, her breasts were rising and falling rapidly and her nipples were hard and so sensitive that even the cool air of the room was a carress to them.

"Sweet lord have mercy." he whispered as his hands lifted and trailed up her waist and over her ribcage till his palms cupped the round curves, his thumbs raking over the hardened tips slowly, his gaze darkening at the flushed contours of her breasts. He hadn't seen all that the previous night and he was fascinated at the sight especially when her lashes fluttered. "Feel good?" he whispered as he raked his thimbs over them again.

"Good." She gasped, her lashes parting so she could stare at him teasingly. ". . . Could be better."

"Better?" His lips quirked with a hint of humor. "How could it be better, babe?" She was sexy as hell, her hazel eyes staring right back at him with a mixture of fun and pleasure that was more than just physical.

"Maybe you could kiss them?" Her tone was wicked, her voice almost innocent. "I bet I'll really like that." She was breathless. "Think you would?"

Jordan's answer was not in words but he dipped his head, his gaze still locked on hers as he leaned in to press his lips against the gentle curve of one breast and watched with pleasure as her eyes darkened and her lashes fluttered once more. "Like that?" He realized in that instant that he loved playing with her.

"That's a little bit better." She breathed out as she braced her hands on the counter behind her. "Maybe a little bit more."

He wanted a nipple in his mouth so bad he couldn't stand it but he also wanted to play with her. He loved watching her face flush, the way she bit at her lower lip and the way sensuality suffused with her features. He knew he wouldn't last long but he was willing to have some fun while he could stand it. "Little bit more?" He licked over the area he had kissed and kissed another spot just beside the cute little mole at the side of her breast before he licked there as well.

"Oh yeah." She sighed roughly, one hand lifting to the back of his head, her fingers sifting through his hair. "God, this is so good."

He kissed again, moving closer to the peak of her breat, coming ever closer to the tight peak of her breats, coming ever closer to the pink areola. "Here?" He kissed the beginning of the darker flesh then licked over it, around it.

"Yeah." She whispered, her breathing as ragged as his own and her fingers tightened in his hair. "Right there."

He didn't touch the sensitive nipple, but moved closer then away, closer and back, licked and kissed until she was straining closer to him and his mouth was watering with the taste of her tight flesh. "You're a very good tease." She accused.

"You're better." He almost grinned. "You've been teasing me for almost two years. Everytime I see you, Lydia." Unable to deny the need any longer, he licked her nipple, tasted it, loved it as hunger rose inside him again. It has been too long. Six years without a woman was too damned long and now that he had allowed himself to taste her, the dam seems to have broken down and he was high on sexuality. Has been since last night and Lydia, oh yes he had wanted her for too long, she had featured in his fantasies for too long.

As Jordan drew the hard tip of her nipple into his mouth, Lydia's hand moved lower to fumble with the button and zipper of his shorts, the action causing his balls to draw up and his cock to start throbbing afresh. The hunger pummeled him, raced through him like a fiery storm and centered on the taste and touch of her.

"So long. . . So long I've wanted this." She whispered, her voice carressing his senses and drew him closer. A desperate groan tore through his throat as he pushed her back, urging her to recline against the counter as his lips swept down her body, dropping kisses and reckless nips and when he pushed her thighs apart, he has to clench his teeth to hold back the need raging inside him to take her now. To release his violently throbbing cock and take her, to sink inside the silken wet folds his eyes were devouring.

Her lower lips were plump and pink and glistening with her juices. He realized that if he had known what was waiting for him down there, he wouldn't have been able to hold back as long as he had. Spreading her legs further, her soft cry echoing in his mind, he lowered his head to lick through the rarrow slit, groaning at the sweet, feminine taste of her. Sweet heaven, she was hot. Her juices heavy and slick like the sweetest syrup.

Pushing her legs further apart, he was only distantly aware of her small feet bracing against the edge of the counter. Her hips lifted for him as he parted the folds with the fingers of one hand and licked deeper, more firmly. He was dying of the taste of her, and here she was, a banquet. A sweet delicate offering that he didn't have the strength to resist any longer.

Lydia curled her fingers in Jordan's hair and fought to hold back the cries that threatened to pour from her lips. She felt his fingers carressing the opening of her sex as his tongue licked along the folds, circled her clit and lowered again. He was licking her like candy, taking her with his mouth and tongue until she wondered if she could bear the sensations coursing through her even as she begged for more.

"God, you're sweet." He muttered against her before his tongue sank inside her pussy, stealing her breath for a long dazed second as she nearly exploded with the intensity of her pleasure. She had never had that before. Jackson definitely didn't do it and with Aiden, it was more about the heat and intense quickies. She had never had a man fuck her with his tongue, and feeling him doing it was the most sensual thing she had ever encountered.

He thust his tongue inside her, retreated then pushed into her again till she started to quiver, her breaths getting more and more shallow with every moment that passed and with every stroke of his tongue on her slit. His head lifted slightly, adjusted his angle till he was kissing her clit, drawing it between his lips briefly as he kissed it deeply. Two expert fingers pressed inside the greedy entrance, working into her as she gasped, her hands tightening in his hair, perspiration dampening her flesh.

"More," she gasped desperately. "Oh god, Jordan . . . Please." Next he drew her clit between his lips, licked it with his tongue while moving his fingers inside her. She was so close. She could feel the desperation clawing inside her now, clenching in her womb and spilling more of her juices onto his fingers.

As he sucked at her clit, his tongue flicked over it, worked it with sensual mastery as his fingers fucked into her, stroking her past sanity and into a whirlwind that overtook her. She felt the explosion tearing through her, her orgasm racing through her senses and tore his name from her lips, her upper body lifting up, her back arching off the counter as he worked her ogasm, lengthening it by carressing her through it.

Collapsing back against the counter, she fought to find her breath, to clear her head as she felt him move back between her legs. She forced her eyes open and looked down her body to see the head of his cock, purple and angry looking, nudging against the flushed folds of her pussy. Lydia watched, her breath suspended in her throat as the broad, blunt crest pressed against her, stroked against the sensitive nerve endings and begun to part the tender entrance to her body.

"Jordan . . ." She breathed out his name, pleasure racking through her body with alternate hums of it, watching, feeling, locked in a vortex of such sensation that she wondered if she would ever completely escape it.

The heavy flesh parted hers, worked in, stretched her and burned the tender tissue erotically as it gave beneath the blunt force. The exquisite sensations whipped through her, tightening her body as she fought to hold on to her control just another moment. Just one more second, she hoped. She wanted to watch and memorize this moment to hold forever. 

When she looked up at him, she saw his facial features tightened in pleasure, his green eyes narrowed and lidded heavily and cheeks flushed, his lips were parted and the intensity of the pleasure on his face matched what she felt coursing through her body.

He started to thrust into her, no more gentle strokes but hard and long plunging movements of his hips and Lydia couldn't keep her screams of pleasure anymore as they escaped her lips, occassionally getting caught on gasps as he slowed down only to slam hard into her over and over again, their chorus of groans and moans resonating over the walls.

Her hands curled around his wrists as his gripped firmly at her hips, holding her still as he gave one hard thrust and burried himself to the hilt inside her, shocking both of them into immobility for a moment as their eyes fixed on where he was burried, deep and fully inside her, erotic as that vision was.

"Damn you're so tight." He breathed out roughly, his gaze finally lifting just as hers did and locking on hers. "So tight around me. You're mine." He didn't know why he said it but he didn't regret it. "You're mine." He repeated and she nodded, smacking a kiss to his lips, hers quivering as he swelled inside her, driving her mad. "Yours. And you're mine." She whispered back and then before she could stop herself, she gasped out; "I love you. I swear I love you, Jordan."

"Hold onto me," He whispered, blinking against the sweat that dampened his face. "God, Lydia I don't think I can hold on anymore."

She shook her head desperately, fighting just to breathe. "Don't hold on," She whispered, needing him with the same hunger that he seemed to need her. "Take me. Please." Her voice broke on a cry. "More. I need more now."

Something inside him seemed to break and Jordan lost all form of control in that instant, praying that he wouldn't regret it as he gripped her hips tighter and begun to move, fucking her as she wanted, giving her more, stroking inside her with a hunger he couldn't still. Each thrust sent shards of burning pleasure racing up his cock.

Lydia was hot and tight around him, her pussy gripping his cock, then flexed and convulsed around him, sucking him deeper and deeper inside her. He wanted to feel her exploding around him and he realized his release was impending, coming closer and closer. He leaned forward to smack his lips against hers in a hard and bruising kiss, then another and another till he couldn't breathe and could barely see anything and just felt as he pumped inside her, felt her tightening around him in announcement to her approaching orgasm.

His lips travelled to her neck, sucking another hickey into the flesh as his hands grabbed up to fondle her tits. Her body tightened and a cry of his name tore out of her throat as his head jerked back, his hips slamming into her as her pussy clasped him tighter, the heat intensifying until he felt her explode in his arms. The tightened muscles seemed to erupt with tiny convulsive jerks along his dick, fluttered around him, heated and held him then sent him flying him into a release he swore he might not survive.

He growled out her name as his balls tightened and he shot his load so deep inside her in long and thick ropes of cum in a pleasure so brutal, it marked his soul. He saw her, writhing in pleasure under him, through lidded eyes and loved that Lydia Martin was losing herself to him, completely and that broke through a wall of reserve he hadn't known he had put between them.

He collapsed on top of her, her arms wrapping tightly around him as they both lay there, trying to catch their breath. "Tell me again." He whispered to her and she knew exactly what he meant. 

"I love you."

He pulled up onto his elbows to look down at her, brushing her messed hair off her face, then smiling down at her. "I know. And I love you too."

A few minutes later as he fought for the strength to get them from that uncomfortable position and into a couch, he realized this was it. This was what he had fought against for the past two years. This sensation, this knowledge, this pleasure. A pleasure he was certain now he didn't want to live without. A woman he knew damned good and well that he didn't want to lose.

The rest of the day, they spent in a canoe on the lake eating, chatting and laughing loudly then that night, finally, he made love to her in a bed, holding her till they slept then waking up a few times that night to indulge in each other's bodies, loving and carressing till dawn broke on monday.

"The rest of the world awaits." He muttered when he set the breakfast tray on the bed beside her.

"So soon." She whined, her whole body aching with evidence of the past few days.

"I have to go to work but since you're tired, you can stay here today. I have to drive your car back into town but I'll try to finish up early and come back alright?" 

She nodded, still a little dazed. "I want Chinese when you're coming."

"You got it." He responded with a chuckle then leaned in to press a kiss to her lips before finding his way out of the lakehouse, not at all thrilled about having to go to work.

The rest of the week followed the same routine. He'd go to work, close early and make it back to the lakehouse just to be with her, and when they made love, which was almost every other hour they're together, it felt better than the last.


	8. Saying Goodbye. [15th - 30th June, 2013.]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The one with the pack camping.

Chapter 8 - Saying goodbye.

They were wrapped around each other in bed, Isaac's palm lazily rubbing along Scott's arm, his eyes closed although he was not asleep and Scott was lying with his head on his boyfriend's chest, his breaths even and for all intents and purposes, as asleep as the other.

"Let's go camping." Isaac muttered after hours of companionable silence between them.

Without shifting much, or even opening his eyes, Scott muttered. "Mhm. We could. But Stiles would never forgive us if we go without him. You know how he has been wanting to go camping for like a year now?"

"Which is surprising because for some reason, Derek has no idea. I'm sure if he knew, he would arrange that in a swift." Isaac replied just as lazily although he pulled himself slightly enough to push a hand behind his head on the bed.

"So if we do go camping, Stiles will come with us." Scott hummed.

"I know. And so will Derek and Peter. And you can bet your ass that Walter, the night crawler will find a way to accidentally walk in on us." Isaac chuckled at that.

"Another pack meeting? The last one didn't quite end in the way that makes me want to have another one anytime soon."

"Well, this time, the attacker will be in the pack and let's face it, every other day is dangerous whether there is a pack meeting or not. This is Beacon Hills but at least if we're there as a pack, we have a better chance at taking care of each other." Isaac reasoned. "Just think about it. It's not a force thing, just a suggestion." He whispered then pressed a kiss to the top of Scott's head.

"I guess I'll ask Parrish first. It's been barely 4 months since all that happened so he may have reservations."

"Sounds sane." Isaac whispered, both boys looking toward the door when Melissa knocked.

"Boys, I have a late night shift so be careful and safe. I also left dinner for you in the kitchen. Microwave it before eating." Then at their nods, she stepped back into the hallway only to call out; "And put some clothes on!"

They just chuckled. No way in hell was that going to happen with the way the weather was starting to heat up.

 

 

Scott called Jordan the next morning. He hadn't seen the deputy since the day of the graduation and a part of him was glad he didn't know what he had been up to, when he called and Lydia was the one to pick up his call.

"Hey Scott, 'sup?" She asked from the other end when she realized whom it was.

"Heyy. . . Lydia. Uhmmm yeah I'm doing good. I've not seen you around in the longest time."

"Oh right. I've been at the lakehouse with Jordan since the graduation day."

He did not want to question the small giggle that echoed through to him but the fact that the couple were happily staying at the main scene of the almost death had him thinking that Parrish was going to be indeed okay with the little arrangement they were planning. He didn't have much time to retreat into his thoughts when he heard Parrish ask-- "Did I hear you say Scott?" Then with a little shuffling, the man's voice boomed over the cords. "Hey whatsup?"

"Well, Isaac and I wanted to go camping but the more we discussed it, the more we both realized that in the end, half the pack would be there so we decided we would make it a full pack meeting if you and Lydia would come."

"Why especially us?" Jordan asked just as Scott had expected him to.

"Well, because of what happened the last time we had a gathering like that. I know you kind of regretted going that day." He muttered a response.

"Yeah but that was in the moment. Scott, this is Beacon Hills. Crappy things happen all the time and really, I realize that could have happened anywhere or whatever the company so yes, we'll be there. I've not gone camping since Afghanistan."

"Oh alright then. I'll text the settled date for you then."

"Great. I guess I'll see you later then." Then they both ended the call, Scott turned around to find Isaac with a gloating smile on his face.

"Oh shut up." He muttered although there was no sting to his words and instead, the humor was seeping through in large volumes. "Maybe I worry too much . . ." He whispered after a while, staring his cup of coffee from the kitchen's counter where he had been standing on one leg. ". . .but you love me anyway."

Isaac moved up behind him and wrapped his arms around his midsection. "Idiot. I don't love you in spite of that. I love you because of it. You're like this mamma tigeress and her cubs. Kinda cute."

"You're just fibbing." Scott mumbled as he took a sip of his coffee, enjoying the intimacy.

"Probably."

Back at the lakehouse, Lydia was sitting up in the bed waiting for the call to end and when it did, she quirked her brows at her boyfriend. "What did he say?"

"He was asking if we were up for some good old camping? Y'know. . . The tents and s'mores and fire and other camping stuff which I'm betting would include naked, sweaty macho restling just for your eyes." He teased her, dropping the phone on the sheets behind her while he remained standing.

He had been taking the morning shower in preparation for work and had walked in with just a towel wrapped around his waist. "There's just one naked body I'm interested in, and right now he's not sweaty at all." She purred as she rose onto her knees, her fingers trailing slowly down his chest and along the firm clasp line of his towel.

"Well maybe the naked body has a few minutes before he *really* has to leave for work." He answered with a smirk on his lips which stayed in place when Lydia's small and gentle hands loosened the towel till it pulled at his face and took him into her hand, then into her mouth till he was crying out her name for the second time in the last three hours.

 

 

The boys sat upstairs in Derek's large room, lazying about. He and Peter had been in the room when Stiles had walked in a few hours ago. The oldest was typing -once more- on his laptop and Derek was quite content just sitting propped up on the bed and watching the small TV he had gotten for his room when he realized the one downstairs has become pack property.

But that all changed when Stiles walked in, smelling suspicious although he didn't worry about it much.

After a while though as they sat with Stiles' head laying on his shoulder, the teen turned his face into his neck and started pressing soft kisses to his skin. Stiles just gave a sly smile that he felt against his skin and smelled, before he had his hand on his crotch, rubbing him to a stiffy restrained by his jeans. The only reaction Peter gave was that little twitch in his brows and Derek figured that was his way of giving a clear signal that they were free to do what they wanted without fearing that they would be disrupting him.

As if that was all he had been expecting too, Stiles pulled away slightly when he felt Derek's face turn slowly to his. In minutes, they were full-on frenching, their tongues twisting around in each other's  
mouth. Stiles had his arms around him, pulling him into himself greedily and maneuvered himself on top of him with ease, both guys now enjoying the position as they started grinding their crotches together while their mouths and tongues continued their noisy wet dance. 

Stiles reached under his shirt, pulling it  
up so he could play with Derek's nipples and begun the process of getting him naked. His hand found a hard nip and lightly pinched it, causing the wolf to moan into the kiss. Derek put up no resistance and soon Stiles had him shirtless, exposing his nipples and making  
them available to him to kiss down his neck and chest and find one to lick and nibble and was then in a perfect position to bring a free hand down his back and slip it into the elastic of his boxers, his fingers sensually teasing the skin till he literally felt it heat up and along with that, the wolf's dick, causing him to instinctively start grinding down firmer into him, his lips travelling back up his chest till they were sucking on his collarbone. 

All of sudden, and just as expected, Derek pushed him away slightly and started pulling at his clothes, clearly wanting to get his naked. Like two crazed cage fighters, they were almost clawing at each other, pulling, pushing, almost slamming against each other. In seconds, they were both buck naked and rolling around on the bed, again kissing and grinding into each other. 

Now Stiles loved the way Derek's naked body feels against his and having their bellies, chests, legs and hard cocks  
pressed together was such a wickedly good feeling. And he loved the way Derek kissed him with lots of tonguing, noisy lip smacking and saliva swapping, nevertheless, he whispered to him, "I  
need some cock!" and Derek gave him a look that clearly said, "Me too!" 

And then as if incenced, Stiles started to whisper breathlessly against Derek's mouth. "You know what I'm in the mood for?" Stiles' limbs wrapped around Derek's neck, purring sinfully to have both men's eyebrows lifting up and quirking in a mixture of curiousity and excitement although Peter kept his eyes fixed on his laptop screen, trying to deceive himself that he could still work with what was happening in the room. The human boy almost chuckled at his success. After the time they have been together, he knew just which buttons to push to get his way and by god he was going to get his way. He resumed whispering. "A wild, hard and rough threesome where I can be allowed to be submissive and take two cocks." 

Their growls were expected and his lips quirked teasingly against Derek's ear when he licked his way to it. "But I'm just wondering where in this small town I could get such company. You see, my boyfriends are too careful with me. I've not been scratched in the longest time."

Things escalated quickly enough because in the next instance,

He felt himself being flipped and positioned in a familiar 69. He wasted no time -neither of them did- as they swiftly swallowed each other's cocks. They were both hard as nails. Derek's was already leaking precum as he started attacking Stiles' cock with great enthusiasm and his wet mouth and tongue was working magic on the teen. 

Stiles felt blissful with Derek under him, feeding him his delicious cock, -which was too big and thick that they had decided early in the relationship to have him under so he doesn't accidentally chocke Stiles to death when in this bosition- while he nursed Stiles' and played with his ass and teased his hole with an occasional  
finger. 

Stiles hadn't completely forgotten about Peter, -he could never do that, considering he felt the man's burning eyes on them now- then Derek grabbed both of his butt cheeks, pulled them open, and exposed his hole to the open air. 

That's when he felt it. The unmistakable sensation of someone sniffing and breathing warm air against his exposed anus. He could feel his asshole twitch involuntarily with each puff of hot breath and nearly jumped when a wet tongue brushed the sensitive flesh of his sphincter. 

He got the better end of both deals with both Hales. Derek did it rough and occassionally gently whereas Peter was usually gentle -except when it was just him and Derek- and occassionally rough and yes, Peter was obviously a real pro at rimming. 

Soon, he was alternately making wet licks on the outside and sticking his stiffened tongue deep into the inside. 

Peter's tongue movement changed from slow and gently sensual to sinuosly aggressive and had Stiles thrusting down firmly into Derek's mouth although for the most part, he was pinned between their mouths and was barely allowed movement.

His orgasm started to build and his thrusts became quicker and shorter as he felt his inner muscles clentch around Peter's tongue all three moaning in unison just as he shot his load into Derek -who had cleverly moved back slightly- 's mouth.

Somehow, he had been rolled off gently and the others were kissing hungrily over his trembling body. After a while, he didn't know for how long, he turned over between their kneeling bodies on the bed and grabbed a cock each in his palm, stroking the already hardened lengths as he briefly wondered when Peter had discarded off his clothes.

In the next moment, Peter was sitting down in bed and pulling Stiles onto him, the still trembling boy's knees straddling each side of his hips then Stiles felt it, the familiar feel of Peter's hard length against his puckering, sleek hole then lifting himself up slowly, he sunk down onto him.

"Mmm you're right. You do feel tighter." Peter whispered softly, his lips pressed gently against Stiles' cheek. "How long has it been?"

"Two days." The boy whispered on a gasp as he gyrated his hips then started the purposeful up and down ride, his head thrown back to rest on Derek's chest as the other's palms and fingers roamed his body. Stiles' hand sneaked down behind him to grab hold of Derek's shaft, starting to rub and pump. 

He was too fixed on the pulsing of Derek's veins under his fingers that it took him by surprise when he felt Peter's groans getting deeper and his fingers gripping him tughter and the sensation was enough to pull him close to the edge. So very close . . . But then Peter came, shooting spurts of his load into him and giving him the feeling of being thoroughly filled up. And the build-up stopped, making Stiles to start trembling from that "almost" feeling as he dropped his forehead on the older man's shoulder, almost missing the chuckle. But he didn't. 

Peter may not get rough with him, but it seemed the older man also knew which of his buttons to press.

He had been so close to cumming, his ass felt wrecked and pulsed with the amount of cum in his body.

A few moments later Derek pulled Stiles off Peter, pushing the boy into an all fours position on top of Peter and Stiles felt, sinuously as Peter's load dripped out of him but that didn't faze Derek any within moments of feeling Peter inside him, Derek's slightly bigger tool was inside him, pistoning him and causing him to lurch forward with each thrust. When Peter shifted into a sitting position, Stiles grabbed hold of his wilting member and sucked him clean, pouting when the man pulled his face up and started to tongue his mouth even as Derek got his way from behind, thrusting hard in and out of him till he was groaning into Peter's mouth, biting occassionally, trying to move a hand down his body to jerk off but he couldn't move as Derek just rammed harder and harder into his ass, pulling out fully then plunging in fast and hard with a "plop" sound each time.

Peter felt Stiles' urgency and with a slight shift in position, he rested the boy's face against his chest, Stiles' nails digging into the flesh at his sides and causing a sting he hated to think would just vanish in a few moments, and reached down to start jerking him off fast and in time with Derek's thrusts. 

Stiles raised my head up, arched my back, and screamed "OH MY GOD!" as he began to cum, legs buckling and toes curling. His body was twitching and contorting as wave after wave of orgasms hit him. The contracting of his inner muscles triggered Derek's release as he came inside him, flooding his insides with what felt like gallons of cum especially as he kept thrusting into Stiles till his orgasm was subdued.

When Derek's softening member slipped out, Stiles' hand moved instinctively to his ass, wincing at the bruises he felt on his hips from both Peter and Derek then tentatively he touched his now gaping hole, a smile stretching across his face. "Now that's more like it."

"You're an asshole." Peter muttered as he pulled Stiles fully on top of himself and wrapped his arms around him, leaning in slightly when Derek moved in beside them.

"Oh yeah... You want me to show it to you? I'm telling you it's not going to feel the same for days." The human boy replied with a purr as he prepared to sleep, Peter flashing Derek a smile over Stiles's head as his hand reached around him to pull Derek closer for a kiss.

Liam stood at the door of the shop, watching Cora in the midst of all that. . . Work! 

"In some werewolf cultures, when a male stares at a female for too long, she reserves the right to rip his head off along with his spine." The woman muttered although Liam was very certain those words were aimed at him and that alone caused him to jump, arrange himself and step fully into the shop.

"I wasn't staring."

"Right. Because that would make you the stupidest person alive for thinking you can sneak up on a born werewolf."

"I wasn't sneaking either."

"That explains you standing in the doorway, how dumb of me." Her sarcasm was very evident.

"Hey I just came over to help. Derek said before that Malia helped you out here since it was a family business and all that but I figure after what happened the other day, unless you're the 'sweep it under the rug' type, -which I don't think you are- then Malia isn't here and you may need some help."

"I don't need anyone's help." Cora snapped, going back to the boxes of canned food that had arrived that morning. Liam chose his next words carefully.

"I don't doubt that but I bet an extra pair of hands is relieving. Aside the pleasant company . . . Well, mostly- and the fact that Mason is acting weird and now wants to play the cello."

That got Cora's brows up. "Why the cello?"

"I have no idea. He's just got this sudden desire to get into music. He took piano classes before and now he's polishing his skill." He used his fingers to draw quote marks in the air to prove his point.

Cora chuckled. He didn't quite remember when ever she did that and he didn't comment on it to avoid her lidding herself up again. Instead, he cut through the celotape on the boxes with his extended claws and for the next hour or so, they engaged in playful banter, occassionally teasing each other as they worked.

"Man, what I wouldn't do to have a bowl of ice cream at my disposal right now." Liam muttered to himself after a few minutes of companionable silence and earned himself an incredulous look from Cora.

"You like ice cream too much."

"Yeah I like a lot of things too much. Not just ice cream. I think I'm prone to addictive behavior." The boy mumbled with a shrug, pausing in his actions when Cora climbed onto a chair and started packing up the top-most shelf with ketchup and mayonnaise bottles. "It's a good thing I can't get drunk now, right?"

"Oh don't feel bad about it. We've all tried to get drunk at some point. I know I still try and Peter's past 30 yet he still drinks alcohol. Wonder why." She looked down at him with a small smile before climbing a step higher onto the table.

"How old are you?" Liam asked casually before going back to fill the bottom drawers with the rest of the boxes that couldn't be opened at the moment.

"Twenty two. Well, almost twenty two."

"I didn't. . . I just kind of figured you were the same age as Scott and the rest, you know?"

"That's because I spend way too much time with them. It's the familiarity effect."

"Is that even a thing?"

"Definitely. Maybe not the name but the phenomena. You stay too long with someone and you start to look like them. Really freaky thing too when hunsbands start tooking like the twin brothers of their wives." She made to turn after setting the last bottle of mayonnaise down but twisted her ankle in the process and came tumbling down from the table.

Of course she wasn't afraid of falling. (Even from a ten storey building so no yelps happened.) Just an irritated grunt which was cut short when she felt arms around her. And then she wasn't falling anymore but her feet were slowly making their way to the floor.

She wasn't the same height with him but she wasn't that further down either. With his werewolf buff, in the last year he had gained an inch and some so he was at a 5"7 and Cora was at a 5"4 give or take and yes, he was thinking about height difference right now because if he allowed his brain to, he would notice how he liked the scowl on her face or the fact that she smelt confused, for some reason, or the fact that they have been standing in that same spot in that position for ages and she still hasn't tried to wring herself free of his embrace.

Well, technically it wasn't an embrace but still, she was pressed against him and looking up at him and he looked back, his eyes finding their way to her lips and he didn't know why such an insane thing would even be happening because she just said she was twenty two and he was 17! That's 5 years his senior but why oh why must she look. . . Oh dear was she licking her lips? 

Liam pulled back as if he had been scalded and smiled widely at her. "You should check that ankle. If you don't set it right and it starts healing, you may have a permanent limp."

"And we don't want that." Cora muttered, leaning her butt against the same table of doom and lifting her foot up to twist the ankle till there was a definitive "pop". "I should go and take a shower. Everything is in place now."

"Yeah go on. I'll lock up and give the keys to you when I next see you." Liam offered and she nodded to it. It's not like he was going to steal the refrigerators and counters and tables and bottles of ketchup.

A few minutes later, she walked into the loft and caught the end of what was obviously an intimate moment. "You know, sometimes, I'm actually at home." She muttered only to hear twin chuckles from upstairs and a sleepy murmur which was obviously from Stiles. "Hey Scott said we're going camping. If you wanna."

With a small sigh, she stepped back out, casually making her way to the shop only to find him there still, sitting in one of the chairs around the tables. "What-?"

"I told you I had nothing to do because Mason is being really suspicious." Was the only explanation Liam gave to her.

"Well, I went home to take a shower then found out things I really shouldn't have. Apparently there's a pack camping thing."

"Oh yeah Scott mentioned it the last time we talked but he didn't know the date so I'm not even sure that's going to happen." 

"I could use a beer." Cora muttered as she took a seat at Liam's table, both deciding the awkward moment was definitely behind them now. The company was needed.

 

 

"You're a tough one. I know you'll figure something out. Something that makes you feel better." It was all she could think about, all that was on her mind. The comforting words Scott had told her a couple of days ago in his house.

Graduation had been a quiet affair for her and the aftermath was an intrinsic moment where she spent most of her time indoors trying to figure out what to do. 

"Kira?" Noshiko stood in the doorway of her daughter's room, arms folded across her chest as she waited for her to turn around. "Your father and I have decided to go back to New York. Not permanently -at least, unless that's what you want- but just for the three months of summer." She expected protests of sorts but instead her daughter just grinned widely then nodded animatedly at the suggestion.

"When do we leave?" She asked, glad that she finally has an escape. She'll find a way to tell the others but for now, she wasn't even worried about that.

"1st of next month." Noshiko replied then turned around to leave only to turn back again. "you're okay, right? I mean if there's something wrong, you'll tell me, right?"

"Mom. . . What makes you think there's something wrong with me?" Kira whined.

"Well, because usually, you wouldn't want to leave the pack. And also, I've noticed Malia hasn't been here in a long time."

"We've all been busy resting, Ma. High school was a strain but I'm fine. With Malia and with the rest of the pack." She replied with a smile then jumped onto her feet. "Looks like I better start packing. That's only like a week away."

Noshiko just shook her head and walked out. Half of what Kira had told her was a lie. She knew that in her gut. She just didn't know which half it was.

 

She called Malia to meet the next day in the pack. She didn't want to, because of Malia's last words to her and she hated the fact that she was calling her first but she had to do it. Next, she would tell Scott, then he would tell the rest of the pack but she wanted Malia to know. She wasn't rude and no matter how angry Malia made her, they have still not broken up and she was certain that she still loved the coyote.

"Are you ready to talk now?" Was the first thing Malia said when she joined Kira on the park bench and the kitsune had to bite her tongue to restrain from biting Malia's face off.

"Oh I am. I just wanted you to know that I'm leaving. To New York. With my mom and dad on July 1st." It was harsh the way she dropped it on Malia but maybe this was the only time she would get to hurt her back and she, was taking it. Perhaps later she would feel bad, but for now, she liked how small Malia looked, with her mouth handing slightly open and her body held taut as if a little touch and she might break. "That's all I have to say to you." She stood up, then with a few step, she turned around to add; "Oh and yes, I meant to say goodbye too."

She couldn't feel anything, hear anything else, after Kira said those words. It wasn't so much the words she spoke, as the way and manner in which she said them. Her hand reached out to grab Kira's firmly when the other turned to leave and stood up immediately. "I- I don't want you to leave." She whispered.

"Well, what you want doesn't matter anymore, Malia, and the sooner you realize that you can't tell people to live their lives just to make you feel better, the better for everybody especially you. You can't keep living by a different set of rules and expect everyone else to be perfect. That's selfish. *You're* selfish." She sighed deeply, pulling her arm free of the coyote's grip. "God, I've wanted to tell you that for so long." And then with that, she turned and hurried away, leaving Malia standing in the park, looking after her even long after she has disappeared.

Later, she would rectify that information, but for now, Kira wanted Malia to feel like she was leaving for good. 

And never coming back.

 

 

 

It was the morning -a few minutes after 11am- of the last day of the month, the next day was to be the official ushering in of summer and the pack set out into the woods in pairs, each pair looking to find a wide enough space that could accomodate all of their tents. With Parrish and the Sheriff giving them the go-ahead, they basically had the whole woods to themselves. If only it wasn't so hard to find an appropriate spot. 

It was after an hour and half of looking that Derek texted to say they found the perfect spot. It wasn't necessarily close to the water and it didn't have a view of the world but it was a large clearing with large trees spaced out in there enough to canopy the spot from above yet leave enough spaces in between for their tents to be set up without any problems.

It took them another thirty minutes to assemble at the place, having ran from their spots on different parts of the woods. Of course Lydia and Parrish were the last to appear. No one was surprised by that.

Derek, Peter and Stiles had started with the clearing of stones and rocks from the d esignated area when the others came and one by one, they joined in the hunt for stones, chatting across loudly at each other.

"I don't think we need to bother with the wind or where the sun will rise. It's not as if we'll even feel it from here." Parrish muttered when he stood up on his feet after what felt like centuries of crouching low in the search for stones.

"I think the sun would only get to us here sometime around noon tomorrow. Personally, I have absolutely no complaints about that because I intend to sleep in." Peter responded as he and Derek set about to start setting their tent. 

All around, tarps were being laid down on the dried leaves on the forest floor and when Liam looked up from where he had been chatting away with Mason, he saw Cora sitting aff to the other end with a frown on her face. "What's wrong now?" He muttered, causing Mason to look up at him with a questioning look to which he just shrugged.

"Kira smells funny." Cora mumbled back and Liam's gaze shifted to the japanese girl who seemed to be even more subdued than she has been in the past few days, his brows furrowing before turning to Cora. 

"Don't even ask. I don't know what's wrong with her but she smells anxious. I just have a bad feeling that's all." And then she kicked down her knapsack which contained the sleeping bag she was going to use that night.

She didn't miss the conversation and she was certain she understood the reason behind Kira's anxiety. She hasn't forgotten that conversation in the park and she hasn't had the strength to ask Kira anything concerning that particular topic. Perhaps a part of her wanted to believe that if she didn't talk about it, then it wasn't going to happen but the better part of her brain knew that wasn't the case.

The past week has been pure torture for her as she was plagued by memories of their time together. Both in the beginning and at the end because that's what it is. The end for them and now that it was here, she realized she didn't want that. No. She wanted her girlfriend back but she feared it was too late now. A part of her -the childishly stupid part- wanted to believe that Kira's leaving has more to do with the fact that Isaac and Scott were together but she knew. Oh she was certain that that was not the case.

Her girlfriend was leaving because she had driven her to the point where she just didn't want to see her again. Because she was selfish.

Maybe she was.

After all the tents have been raised and staked to the ground, the pack spent the next few hours playing SPUD and catch, then Noah's ark followed with Stiles emerging winner although that was a controversial win becaise he took his time to think about his words carefully.

Anyway, there are no rules against thinking carefully about your answer so Isaac wasn't going to fume for long. Not that he had much of a chance to begin with, considering he was the first to drop out, followed closely by Derek, then Malia, Scott, Mason, Peter, Kira, Jordan, Liam, until it was just him and Lydia who lost by forfeit because apparently, there was an animal whose name started with an X.

Well, technically, fishes weren't in Noah's ark so it was wrong but then the X-ray tetra had been mentioned by Stiles *after* she had forfeit.

Then when the sun begun to set -according to their watches- they set out one by one to see who could set the fire without any modern methods, laughing the whole time as after 2 minutes of trying each person just . . . gave up and endured the teasing from the rest. That was, until the next person failed.

In the next thirty minutes after they had set out on this fire-setting mission between their tents which were arranged like ancient huts in african compound houses, with Cora and Kira's bags cushioned somewhere between the large tents, the pack laughed at each other, those who were too hungry to wait for the fire were pulling cans of beans and fishes from their bags to eat only to have themselves chased for breaking camping rules.

"Ookay I'll do it. You people are just sad." Jordan chuckled after eating half of Peter's sardines with him. Picking up two of the rocks they had discarded earlier, he scraped them together, once . . . twice . . . thrice and the leaves caught fire. With a gloating smile, he tirned around only to have Lydia say; "You know I could have done that. You people just didn't give me the chance."

Jordan just rolled his eyes. "Of course you could have. It's part of your many hidden talents."

"I sniff sarcasm in there. Okay kill the fire." She replied, getting to her feet and taking the stones from Parrish. "go on, kill it and i'll light it in one try."

"I don't know. . . but some of us are really terrified at the prospect. And *really* hungry." Scott chipped in from his spot at the entrance of the tent he was sharing with Isaac.

"You don't trust me. That's even worse. Kill it." She rolled up her sleeves and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly.

Needless to say, Isaac killed the fire and Lydia spent the next fifteen minutes trying to keep the pack warm, her cheeks heated up and red as she refused help from anyone.

Just when she thought she had the fire down, a whoosh of air was felt around the camp site and poof! there goes all manner of hope for this fire. A look up revealed Walter grinning innocently down at her and she hurled a stone at him, the vampire dodging in easily. "I did light the fire but you killed it with your . . . whooshing so it's your turn to light it."

"Hey that's no big deal. I can light a fire." With a blur of his fingers, the fire was lit again and Walter made a show of bowing graciously to his audience.

"Where'd you learn to do that?" Cora asked from the floor where she was sitting.

"I was on the run for a year. In the beginning I was really scared so when I went to ground during the day and came out at 6pm, I'd set a fire and sit around it till it was time for me to go to ground again in the morning. Peaceful life." The vampire replied with a shrug.

"Right." Cora muttered. She never really asked the dynamics of the vampire tradition. From what she heard, they were different in several ways even among themselves, just like werewolves were also different from each other. There were the ones who shifted into actual wolves, the ones who retain their human bodies and the ones who look like the traditional werewolves, almost hairless and abominable-looking. The howlers. The originals of sorts. Those ones were just ugly.

And then of course there were the vampires who would fall asleep the moment the sun came up, anywhere. The cinderella ones. And the ones who burst into flames when they come in contact with direct sunlight, then the ones who are just weakened by sunlight so that they start getting the nose bleeds and just basically the nasty bleeding all over. She guessed that was the category Walter was in.

Those were the ones who hid in coffins and fridges and closed places away from the sun just to avoid the displeasure. She didn't want to imagine how in all blazes the boy was able to be cheerful when summer was already here. Not that she cared. Of course she also heard of the ones that glowed. Pfft. Such crock! Obviously a work of fiction. Someone's rosy immagination. Diamonds. Right.

"Let's share war stories!" Walter exclaimed then turned to Liam and Mason in front of their tent. "That tent is too big for you two. I'm sure you'll allow me to stay in there eh?"

"Was that a question?" Mason muttered with a shake of his head as he dangled a marshmallow on the fire.

"Not really, no. Besides I don't think I'll sleep tonight so you'll basically just have to house me for an hour or so." 

The conversation continued easily around the campfire, the pack laughing as the fire cackled between them.

"Let's tell a story. . ." Lydia started. "Once upon a time there was a. . ." She turned to Parrish who just continued.

". . . A goblin king. This king had a. . ."

". . . A son. A cowardly son who was a disgrace to the entire kingdom so the kingsmen adviced that. . ." Isaac chipped in.

". . . He be taken to the forest. The trees in the forest are known to have. . ." Scott added.

". . . Giant thorns and can sometimes. . ." stiles contributed.

". . . Give birth to animals!" Mason chipped in, causing laughter to erupt around the campfire. "I'll continue that." He managed after a while, then cleared his throat. "So, armed with a. . ."

". . . Spoon and a fork, he headed off into the trees to. . ." kira chuckled after she said that.

". . . kill these tree animals and put an end to the. . ." that was Cora's line. Why not put some killings in there? she thought.

". . .terrorism that they were unleashing upon all. . ." Peter and Derek shared a look after Derek finished saying that and the oldest man responded with;

". . . Their parents. On his journey, he met a . . ."

". . . Companion whom he battled with and won, then the two agreed to be friends to help each other on their. . ." Malia says quietly, her tone forlorn.

". . . Quest. They set a fire when night time came and cooked some meat but. . ." Walter grumbled out.

". . . When they slept and woke up, all that was left of The prince's companion was a puddle of. . ." Liam.

". . . Melted cheese! For he had been none other than. . ." Stiles.

". . . The cheeseman of the open forest and the prince's fire had melted him. Left with no other choice. . ." Isaac.

". . .The prince ate the cheese and panicked as he felt. . ." Parrish.

". . . Himself melting and transforming into a. . ."

". . . Bag of potatoes. As he sat there on the forest floor,-. . ." The rest of the story blurred out of his head when he looked across the campsite and saw Kira beckon him over. Standing quietly so as not to disrupt the loud chattering although he was certain he was noticed, he walked around the tents to meet the kitsune who was standing there looking tense.

"You have something to tell me." Scott muttered when Kira said nothing even after a while.

"Yeah. . . I'm leaving." The sound from the pack died down considerably as more than half of them heard what she said. Not that they were eavesdropping.

"What? I mean, why? Don't tell me it's because of what I told you the last time because. . ."

"Well that is partly the reason. You were right, y'know? People need to do things that make them feel good and after racking my brain for days, this is the only solution that popped up. It's not like I'm leaving permanently. I just want to spend time in New York and see if perhaps I can be happy there."

"How long?" Scott dreaded asking, but he had to.

"Just for the duration of the summer but I also bought NYU forms and I hope to be accepted in there so I'm not sure. Right now I just know that I want to spend the summer away but my final decision would depend on how I feel when I get to New York."

"And if I ask you not to leave? For several reasons?" Scott sighed.

"Then I may stay but then you and I both know you're not going to." Kira managed a genuine smile after that. "I'm leaving tomorrow. My flight's really early because that's the only ticket we could get. At least that's the lie my dad told me."

Scott nodded. He understood why she wanted to leave but it didn't change the fact that her absense would be felt for a long time. "You better come back." He muttered, finally giving into the entire situation as he stepped close and pulled her in for a hug.

"I'll be back. Whether next week, next month, next year or in the next ten years, I'll definitely be back. Beacon Hills is home." She replied although her words were muffled against his shirt.

Back in the campsite, Stiles had dozed off, his head on Derek's shoulder and the man shifted, pulling them into the tent. It seemed to be a kind of determinant for the others as Malia stood up from the fire side, walked carefully away then broke off into a sprint, Peter watching after her with a frown.

Across the fire, Walter's eyes found Isaac's and the wolf just shrugged at him as the others all curled up in their tents and Cora in her sleeping bag.

When Scott and Kira came back around, it was just Parrish, Peter and Isaac sitting around the fire. "They already know. I'll tell Lydia but she also fell asleep so I guess I'll do that tomorrow." the deputy uttered before entering the tent and zipping it up.

"Yeah. . ." Scott nodded and made his way to Isaac. "We should probably sleep too. It's past midnight."

Peter stayed sitting as Kira went over to her bag and stuffed herself in it. He had wanted to wait for Malia to come back but aside not knowing if she'll be back that night and realizing he had no idea how to comfort her, he gave up and went to sleep.

When she came back from her self pitying run, she stood at the mouth of her tent for a while before walking over to where Kira was lying in her bag. She tapped the girl lightly, startled when she instantly unzipped her bag. "Sorry for waking you up."

"You didn't. I wasn't asleep." Kira replied easily, sitting up. "I didn't think you were coming back tonight." She heard herself say before she could stop it.

"Wanna talk?"

She agreed silently, slipping out of her bag and allowing Malia to lead her to the small log in front of her tent. 

"You know I don't want you to go." Malia whispered after a while of silence between them, her eyes downcast as she drew uneven patterns with a piece of wood on the forest floor.

"I know. But I want to. I have to. Get away from this place, the drama, the danger. . ." Kira didn't finish her words. She couldn't finish her list of reasons to being away but the rest hung in the air between them as if she had said it out loud.

"Me?" Malia's voice was a tortured whisper.

"Yes. Yes, especially you." There was no point in lying. Absolutely no point.

"I get it. Really, I understand. Sometimes I feel like getting away from me too." She turned slowly towards her, a small smile on her face even though she just wanted to howl at the moon the whole night. She watched the way the fire reflected in her sleek brunette locks, remembered those times when they would make love and then laugh afterwards while she played with her hair, or those times when the sun's rays gave them the same glow they had at the moment. The way once in a while, her eyes glowed while they made love.

Gods she missed those moments. It felt like an eternity since that happened and the more she reminisced, the more she hated the fact that she had done this to them. Brought them to this place where she couldn't even stand to be in the same pack with her.

Kira turned her face then. She had felt her eyes on her and felt the need to know why yet when she did, she almost regretted it instantly. That look in Malia's eyes, she remembered that look. She missed that look and she yearned for it for the longest time but there it was, that raw delicacy she had reserved for her in the beginning of their relationship. She thought that was gone and could never be brought back yet Malia was looking at her and she couldn't halp but look back, her expression wistful as she thought how late this has been. 

It was too late.

Malia seemed to have sensed her thoughts because in the next instance, she saw her lips part and then; "Just one kiss," she said. Malia said that to her. "Just one kiss, right here," and she pointed to her lips. She watched as her doubts flittered across her face and smiled that way she does when she saw Kira lean in slowly. 

Malia wanted her to do it. She wanted Kira to be the one to kiss her goodbye but she couldn't help herself as she leant towards  
her and smiled and then bent forward and kissed her. And then like she used to do, she pulled away and said, "No. Again. Do it properly!" and laughed like she used to, easily, which made Kira giggle softly and this time, she took her head in her hands and pulled her in for a firmer and 'proper' kiss. It was a smooth and wet kiss and Malia's hand shifted till it was gently placed at her waist.

She may be confused about a lot of things but this was not something that confuses her because in the next instance, Kira eased her tongue into Malia's willingly open mouth and feeling her tongue move tentatively against hers, as well as her hands clenching her skin beneath her top, was all the confirmation she needed that Malia felt the same. 

And then suddenly, as if practiced, their kisses weren't so gentle anymore and Malia pushed back with her tongue and mouth and Kira could just feel her inside her mouth and how hot she was and wanting this and Kira was forgetting everything else because now her hands had slipped into Malia's hair and gotten a firm grip on the dirty blonde locks and Malia's hands were on her back, up, beneath her bra and tracing down a bit."

She didn't know how but somehow, she managed to be straddling Malia in the next instance, never having broken the kiss even for a moment.

They pulled back when their breaths got shallow and heavy and Kira's hands worked frantically on Malia's shirt buttons while the coyote had an easier time pulling the kitsune's shirt off. When finally, the tops came off, their lips collided once more, kissing and nipping at each other's lips, her hands cold on Malia's warm skin while Malia's were a warm contrast to her cold skin. 

The coyote flipped them over then in one strong yet gentle haul, moved them till they were in their designated tent for the night. She pulled away briefly to zip up the bag and when she turned around, it was with the fear that she may have changed her mind but no she hadn't. Instead, she held her arm out to her and she clasped it firmly, allowing Kira to pull her into herself. She leaned in and this time, her kisses were aimed at the other's jawline, her neck, leaving a few pruises there, then her shoulder and her tongue was teasing her ear and pulling a groan from her.

Malia pressed her hips down, her shorts causing her bare thighs to rub directly against the hot and moist flesh through her tights. She growled, hand still clentching Kira's tightly as she grinded her thigh into her warmth, revelling in her soft whimpers. Her free hand moved to cup her perk tits through her bra, kneading gently while her lips travelled back to Kira's ear to whisper; "Ride my leg"

And she did, gasping at the friction of her tights against her soaked heat. Her head fell back, distantly aware of Malia's fingers entwined with hers as she felt the other's lips crash down on hers just as her orgasm tore though her with blinding and crippling intensity, her hips pressing harder on Malia's soaked thigh till slowly, she came down from her high.

When she opened her eyes, Malia was looking down at her with a gentle smile and her fingers trailed low on the coyote's body only for her to shake her head no. Then slowly, with their fingers still locked together, Malia rolled off and onto her side, waiting till Kira shifted and then they spooned till they fell asleep. Or at least Kia did, because after minutes of silence, the Coyote whispered to no one in particular. "I'm afraid this is it. I'm afraid you're never coming back." The hollow tent walls echoed her words back to her, haunting her for the rest of the night, refusing her sleep.

A few tents away, with his arm around his sleeping lovers, Peter sighed to himself. He didn't know what the girls had been talking about for Malia to say that, as he had just woken from sleep but he couldn't get back to proper sleep and after an hour of trying, not wanting to wake the others, he slipped soundlessly out of the tent and was snaking away when; "You're not up to something, are you?"

The man groaned and turned to face Walter. "Right. I forgot about the nightwalker. And no, I just can't sleep so I'm going for a walk." He didn't wait after that before he set off again.

"Mind if I join you?" Walter asked from behind and Peter shrugged.

"If you promise to shut up. And why the hell do you smell like sex?" He asked before he could help himself.

"Maybe because I just had sex and no, I didn't kill the person in the process, or feed even so can we agree not to discuss it further? I still feel flushed." Walter's tone was teasing.

"I didn't need to know that." Peter muttered, not stopping in his strides and his tone lacking any real bite to it.

 

 

 

 

When they woke up the next day, Kira was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus, here comes the end of this story, the third in the series. I hope you enjoyed following the Marrish story and look forward to the Malira-centerer one which is next and would be posted starting July 4th. Thank you for your time and I appreciate you taking the time to read it.


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